


Queenly

by spencermcq



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Anger, Benny Watts - Freeform, Beth Harmon - Freeform, Chess, Chess Tournaments, Cowboy Hats, Drinking, F/M, Games, Hate, Love Triangle, New York City, OC, Orphanage, Orphans, Redheads, Scrabble, Sex, Sibling Rivalry, Sisters, Smut, Tags are Hard :(, Twin sisters, Twins, chess championship, harry beltik - Freeform, smoking weed, speed chess, the queen's gambit - Freeform, vasily borgov - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 39,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spencermcq/pseuds/spencermcq
Summary: Beth's eyes filled with tears, rage pouring through her as she realized the truth. She glared at me, looking up from the chess board and its tantalizing wooden pieces. Her gaze could've burned a hole through me."Beth," I started, wishing I had never entered the stupid tournament in the first place. Why did I have to enter the US Championship just to beat her? What kind of sister does that?"I hate you," she spat, tears dropping from her eyes. I felt something inside of me freeze, the weight of her words sinking into me. Her eyes were so sharp and menacing, and I could tell she was telling me the truth. I wanted to tell myself she didn't mean it, but I'd never seen that look in someone's eyes before. She looked at me like I had ruined her.~updates on wednesdays!
Relationships: Benny Watts/Original Female Character(s), Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Comments: 107
Kudos: 261





	1. Beth

"Beth."

...

" _Beth_."

There was a warm light, my sister's voice waking me urgently.

"What?" I whispered, not bothering to open my eyes. Violet was prodding my shoulder, painfully bringing me to the brink of awareness.

"I had the dream again."

I sighed, opening my eyes slowly. The lit candle next to my bed illuminated my frightened sister, her wide brown eyes bright with anxiety. Her brightly red hair was messy, her cheek shining with tears. 

"Okay," I whispered, scooting over in my small bed. She climbed in, her cold toes brushing against my shin. I pulled the blanket over our heads, tucking my hands under my cheek. She faced me in the dark, her hot breath brushing past my face. I thought of how unlucky we were; even in the darkness, I could see the cut on her cheek from the crash. It hadn't even healed yet.

"Same one?" I asked softly. She nodded, steadying her breath.

"Do you have any more pills?"

"No," I said sadly, wishing I did. Even if I had extras, I wouldn't have given them to her anyway; I liked the foggy feeling too much.

"Beth?"

"Hmm?"

"What if you get adopted and I don't?" She whispered, her voice shaking. I touched her upper arm; she had goosebumps. Her skin was still cold.

"Then I'll come back for you," I responded, trying to sound confidant for her. "What if you get adopted and _I_ don't?"

"I'll come back for you too," she replied, and I brushed some hair out of my face. I could just barely make up the outline of her skin in the darkness. 

"Go back to sleep," I muttered, the warmth of the pillow adding to my exhaustion. My eyes felt heavy. "Don't be scared."

"I'm not scared," she whispered, her voice soft. "I'm just worried about how much we'll need each other."


	2. Violet

My sharp inhale of breath was cold, my wide eyes flittering open. My heart was pounding, my eyes stinging from the daylight. I wanted to cry, feeling that familiar warm pressure on my eyes. I couldn't shake the image of my sister's wide, frightened eyes from my mind, much less the sound of the crash--

I inhaled deeply, the cool air fresh. The window to the left of my bed was open, two girls leaning over the sill. Beth turned her head towards me, her red hair bouncing and her cheeks flushed. I tried to look calm so as not to worry her, turning away so she wouldn't see my eyes. I didn't want her to know that the nightmares started up again with the anniversary of the crash; they weren't as bad as they used to be, I didn't always scream. I smelled cigarette smoke, noticing Jolene's lit cigarette between her slender fingers. Jolene leaned out of the window, blowing smoke out from her lips.

"Morning, Violet," Beth greeted, a smile playing on her lips. "Wanna play chess in the shower?"

I tried to smile, shaking the image from my nightmare out of my mind. "Yeah. You be white."

"They might be here for you, Beth," Jolene mentioned, gesturing out the window with her cigarette. I placed my feet on the cold floor and leaned to the window, looking out. A couple was getting out of a car, the woman looking in our direction. She looked friendly enough; definitely the motherly type. "Didn't Deardorff say your appointment was this week?"

I froze, looking at Jolene. She raised a brow at me before eyeing Beth, who was staring at the woman. I thought Beth's appointment with the Wheatleys was next week, not today.... My heart pounded as I thought of being here without her, of watching her drive away in some stranger's car. Beth turned towards me, smiling reassuringly. 

"E4," she said, clearly trying to get my mind off of it. I shot her a look but played along.

"D5."

"Scandinavian," she comments, narrowing her eyes. "Pawn takes."

"Queen takes pawn."

"Knight to QB3."

"Hmm," I think, following her to the bathroom. "Queen to a5..."

We played in the shower, calling to each other, our moves echoing through the bathroom. I narrowly won with a pawn promotion, and when we both stepped out as I put her in checkmate, she huffed angrily. Beth hated losing, especially in chess. She aggressively squeezed a dollop of toothpaste onto her toothbrush. I smugly took my own, smiling to myself.

"Beth," I started, unable to hold back anymore, "Those people _are_ here for you, aren't they?"

She sighed, looking at me without an answer. I could see myself in her wide eyes, my red hair the same shade as hers.

"They're adopting you. _Just_ you."

She looked away. _Shit._

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I hate it," she sighed, crossing her arms. "And we can't do anything about it."

"We could run away," I halfheartedly suggested, feeling my heart sink.

"You know I'll come back for you," she assured me, taking my hand. "Just give me a few weeks to convince them to get you too. Everything's going to be fine."

I bit my lip, pulling my hand away. She did this all the time--made things seem less shitty to make me feel better. In the end, it was just lying.

~

"I can't find my book," Beth said, neatly packing her clothes into her suitcase. I was sitting on the floor by Jolene's bed, watching her, my heart heavy. I felt like any moment could be the one I break down. "Do you have it?"

"No," I answered, my voice small. She seemed so calm; why was she so calm? Couldn't she be crying, like I've almost been all day? That would have been more assuring to me than her usual sober self.

"I just had it here..." She trailed off, looking into her drawer, and Jolene passed in front of me, sitting down. "Jolene, do you know where _Modern Chess Openings_ is?"

"Watch who you go accusing," she mumbled, laying down. Something about her seemed off; I wondered if Jolene really took it. "So y'all ain't running away?"

"Beth's too chicken," I explained, trying to lighten my shitty mood. She gave me a look and I just shrugged, thinking back to this morning. "Are they at least nice?"

Beth shrugged too. "I think so. The mom seems okay enough, I think I'll be able to convince her to come back for you."

"And if she doesn't? What will we do then?" My voice cracked. I felt Jolene's hand on my shoulder as I covered my face, a pressure building in my stomach. I felt nauseous thinking of being without her. "We don't have any money."

"Then I'll get some money," Beth said soberly, moving my hand from my face. "And I'll get a car and I'll come back for you."

"How are you going to get money?"

"I'll get a job, or I'll enter chess tournaments. I promise that I will come back for you, Violet. How would I get by without you?" She said comfortingly, but it didn't help. I wanted to pull away.

"You'll write to me?"

"Of course I will, Vi. It'll be okay." Her voice was smooth and firm, like how I remembered our mother's.

~

"I'm sorry," Beth whispered into my ear, her voice breaking. My tears were hot on my cheeks as I squeezed her, my only sister. "I'll come back for you."

"Bye," I whispered, my heart breaking. _I fucking hate this._

I watched them drive away until their car were just a green dot in the distance, fighting the urge to sob. _Please come back for me._


	3. Beth

_Dear Violet,_ I started, tapping my pencil on the paper. This was my first letter to her since I got adopted, but imagining her reading it made me nauseous. I hadn't seen her in a month and she didn't have my address; I thought of her asking Mrs. Deardorff if I'd sent her anything, only to hear the word "no" each time. Violet was waiting.

I didn't know what to tell her. If I told her I liked it here, she might've thought I didn't care that she didn't come with me. I wasn't even sure about how I felt about living here; I missed waking up next to Violet and Jolene. I talked to Mother about going back for Violet, but she said we couldn't because Father was indefinitely detained in the Southwest and we couldn't get Violet if Mother's not married. Father took the car too, so I couldn't even learn to drive, let alone go get Violet.

I groaned, throwing down my pencil onto my desk. I felt ansty, jumpy, the way I got without the pills. I rubbed my eyes, reaching for my beaded coin purse where I hid them. I opened the latch and reached in, pulling out three. I put them on my tongue and swallowed them dry, sighing heavily. _I'm sorry, Violet._

"Fuck," I whispered to myself. I looked over at my chess board, thinking of our last game together, when we called our moves in the shower. Violet always said yes to playing with me... Why did that have to be our last game? I selfishly wished I had beaten her for our last game.

I grabbed the chess board, setting up the pieces. I pictured Violet's bright eyes, her smug smile as she checked me. It hurt when I realized I might not see that again for years.

"E4," I muttered to myself, moving the pieces. "D5, pawn takes, queen takes, knight to c6..." _She always brought her queen out too fucking early._

"I still beat you," Violet's voice said in my head. I moved the pieces to how I remembered our game, looking for where I made a mistake. _Stupid pawn promotion._ She must have thought of that early and protected that pawn the whole game, all while I was thinking of smothered mate. _Stupid._

The worst part was that I was trying not to miss her--if I let myself feel it, if I contemplated that my twin sister was ripped from my arms because a couple happened to adopt me, I didn't know how hard I would shut down. It was be devastating, but Violet wasn't like me, she felt everything, regardless of whether she wanted to. She couldn't bury it the way I could. I wished I could just let Violet go, even if she would hate me for it.


	4. Violet

It wasn't too late to turn around. I took a deep breath of the thick and dusty basement air. It was darker down here than I expected, a little more quiet than I was comfortable with. But I could just barely see the yellow glow of a lamp hidden by the staircase, and it gave me the slightest bit of relief I was hoping for. Beth had told me so much about this place, about the games she and Mr. Shaibel played when we were nine. That was seven years ago, before Beth got busted for stealing all of those pills. I used to ask her all the time if I could go down here with her and play chess with Mr. Shaibel, which always led to an irritated " _No_." from Beth. It had angered me so much back then, her refusal to allow me to play and learn from him. It was my first glimpse into how territorial she would become.

I took a step, the first creak making my stomach turn. _This is probably so stupid,_ I thought, a new creak on each stair. I felt oddly anxious about this, like Beth was going to bust me at any moment. It had been a year since she was adopted, and I still hadn't heard from her at all, despite her promising to write. I couldn't think about it without tearing up, so I refused to think about it.

I reached the bottom, peering through the shelves at the origin of the yellow lamp. I could see the man's outline, the shape of the pieces, his sturdy fingers moving the pieces.

"Hello?" He called, and I froze, my heart stopping. _Don't be a coward._

I came out from behind the shelves, and Mr. Shaibel appeared before me. He was sitting at a small table, a brown book in his left hand and a drink in his right. He had an aged face and striking brown eyes with a heavy gaze. His dull grey-blue uniform contrasted greatly with his powerful features.

"I-I'm sorry to bother you," I stuttered, trying to hold myself together. "W-Were you playing a game?"

"Yes," he grumbled, raising an eyebrow at me. His voice had a deep, almost sad tone. "Botvinnik vs. Capablanca. 1938."

"Oh," I muttered, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I've never heard of them."

"They're Grandmasters," he explained, setting down his drink and glancing back at the board, before settling those dark eyes on me. "World Champions."

I didn't know what to say. I tried to imagine Beth sitting at the other end of that table, her young eyes reading the board carefully. Mr. Shaibel set down the book, clearing his throat.

"Would you like to play a game?" He asked gently, and I tried to contain myself.

"Yes," I agreed, relieved. I hadn't played a game with anyone since Beth left. "Thank you."

He gestured across from him, to the small stool on the black side of the board. I walked over and sat on the firm leather, starting to set the board back up, swiftly moving the pieces back to their homes. I figured he would beat me, because of how much Beth talked up his skill, but I didn't care. I was itching to play, to have an opponent. To put my heart into something.

He cleared his throat again, eyeing me. I looked up at him, waiting for him to move. I figured he wanted to ask me about Beth.

He moved a pawn to h4. It was the Kadas opening, which surprised me; I always imagined him as e4 player. I responded with d4, thinking about why he would go with such a risky opening for white.

We played in silence for a while. He usually took less than a minute to make his move, but as we approached the endgame he took longer and longer for his turns. I figured he was comparing me to Beth. I quickly wondered if I will always be compared to her, before remembering that I would probably never see her again in the distant future. _That she's forgotten about me._

I shook it off. I told myself to focus on the game, to keep it together.

He was fidgeting and furrowing his brow, looking at the d1 square intensely. I wasn't sure what he was waiting for--our game so far has been pretty even. I studied his kingside, thinking through all of his next moves. With careful consideration, he moved his a file rook in front of my own, offering a rook trade.

I raised a brow, but played along, despite watching him notably lose his advantage. We traded rooks, but if he had offered his bishop instead, he would have kept a rook and thus, his advantage.

"You don't play like her," he mumbled as I pondered my next turn. I looked up at him startled. I was too used to the silence.

"I don't?"

"No," he said gruffly, taking a sip of his drink. He swirled the amber whiskey, looking back at the pieces. I wasn't sure what to make of that; I couldn't tell if it was a good or bad thing not to play like my sister. I moved my bishop to c4, starting to trap his king. I expected him to threaten it with his bishop, but instead he moved his a pawn forward. I moved my king one file over.

We played more in silence. I threatened his bishop, and he grumbled a little. He moved it back, leaving his wing pawn defenseless. I captured it, waiting for his next move. In ten moves, I checkmated him with my pawn-promoted queen and king, and he gave me a gruff look before tipping over his king.

"How?" I asked quietly, and he scoffed.

"She's far more aggressive. Beth plays to win."

"I _am_ winning."

"Yes, but not because you've spent the game attacking me strategically," he said, rattling the ice in his drink. "Haven't you read about her games in the papers?"

I furrowed my brows. _Papers?_ "I'm not allowed to read the papers."

"Hasn't she written to you?" He asked incredulously, and I felt tears prick in my eyes. I looked away, my heart sinking. _There it is._

"Oh," he said softly, glancing away. He cleared his throat, setting down his drink and standing up. He stepped towards a nearby cabinet, rifling through to find a stack of newspapers and magazines. He gripped them, his knuckles white, before grabbing a white envelope on his desk. He walked back to me, handing me the stack. He put the envelope on top, Beth's handwriting staring me in the face.

"She wrote to you?" I whispered softly, touching the envelope. I saw her address in the corner, her curly-written _Beth Harmon._

"Yes," he answered, embarrassed. "Last year. She needed five dollars to enter the Kentucky State Championship."

I moved the envelope out of view, seeing a portrait of my sister on the cover of a magazine called _Chess Review._ She had grown a lot in a year, her clothes were expensive and glamorous. Her red hair was bright, but her bangs were gone. I touched my own, thinking of how normal it used to be for us to have the same haircut.

I opened the magazine, turning to her feature. The pictures were beautiful; she looked so grown-up, yet it was unmistakably her. We were only 16 but she was on the cover of a _magazine._

I looked at the newspapers, turning to her sections and skimming the passages. Beth was becoming a successful chess player; she was a celebrity, an autonomous wealthy woman. It was her all right; but she was unrecognizable.

"She said she was going to come back for me," I said sadly, glaring at her picture. "She said she was coming to get me once she had money."

"Well she's certainly got some," he mumbled, "but she still owes me ten dollars for my paying the entrance fee for her first competition."

"Looks like she's cheated both of us," I said softly, wanting to tear up the paper.

"It could be a misunderstanding," he explained hopefully, trying to comfort me. "There must be an explanation."

"I can't stay here anymore," I muttered, continuing to look into Beth's intense eyes. "I want to find her."

"Violet," Mr. Shaibel said soberly, forcing me to look away from the photograph. It was the first time he'd ever called me by name. "Maybe she doesn't want you to."

"But-but you must be right. There must be an explanation," I said surely, biting my lip. "I-I want to find her. She's my sister."

"Twins, aren't you?" He asked, still very serious.

"Yes," I answered. "Fraternal twins."

"Give it more time," he said, taking the papers from me. "Another year. She'll contact you by then."

"What if she doesn't?"

He looked sad. There was pity in his eyes.

"Then I'll help you."

"Help me?"

He nodded once. I thought about what it might be like to wait another terrible year without Beth.

"Another game?" He asked, almost smiling.

I thought of Beth's promise, of her assurance that everything would be fine. It really was all just lying.

"Sure."


	5. Violet

For a blissful moment as I awoke, my mind was wonderfully blank. The realization that today marked the two year anniversary of Beth's adoption struck me like a blow to the stomach. It made me feel nauseous, like my body was rejecting the pain that demanded my attention.

I sat up in bed, looking around at the other orphans. They were waking as well, some sitting up in bed, looking around the dimly lit room. I stared at where Jolene used to sleep, wishing she was here. She turned eighteen a year and a half ago; at least _she_ still writes to me.

I rubbed my eyes, touching my feet to the cold floor. It was Saturday, which meant I got to visit Mr. Shaibel instead of being in class. I went down there as much as I could nowadays; it was nice to play chess with someone again, and for the past year I improved exponentially with the practice. Chess was good for my soul, though the reason why I had not yet understood.

After I got dressed and ate breakfast, I headed down the familiar stairs to the basement, wondering how I was going to bring up the date with Mr. Shaibel. In my experience getting to know him, he's quite non-confrontational. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, but he _did_ say he would help me if Beth hadn't written me in another year. And she didn't.

He was sitting at his desk when I came down, scribbling something. He was facing away from me, concentrated.

I cleared my throat and he paused, putting down his pencil. He turned his head around and gave me a look.

"Good morning," he grumbled, turning back around.

"Up for a game?" Chess was always the best way to get through to him.

"Sure," he agreed, standing. I sat at the black side, fidgeting with my sleeves. He started with the Reti opening, and I responded with d5.

"Do you know what today is?" I asked, as he played d4. Mr. Shaibel raised a brow at me.

"Saturday?" He joked, his mouth twitching in a small smile. I appreciated him lightening the mood; I prayed I wouldn't start to cry. "I know, Violet."

I wasn't sure how to reply, except with my knight to f6.

We played in silence some more, and as we approached the middlegame I worked on dominating the center of the board. We traded bishops early on.

I was losing my advantage. I felt anxious about talking to him about Beth, so I couldn't focus as well as I could have. I was setting up for a rook-queen check, but I hesitated and missed a potential skewer between his rook and queen. _Stupid._

I fought back, shaking it off and avoiding checkmate the best I could. Mr. Shaibel got better every time I won, so I felt paranoid about losing my advantage. _Focus on pawn promotion._

When he missed the opportunity to take my queen, I knew I had him. In 19 more moves, I promoted my pawn and put him in checkmate.

He looked at me intensely, putting his cheek in his palm. Without breaking eye contact, he gently placed his king on its side.

"Not your best game," he commented. I rolled my eyes.

"I still beat you."

"Humph," he grumbled, setting the board back up.

"Mr. Shaibel?" I could hear the blood pumping in my ears.

"Hmm?"

"You said you would help me."

He stopped, looking up at me. He was my only hope to find Beth, and he knew it.

"Yes." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He glanced at his desk, before standing and grabbing the newspaper. He found the page he was searching for, folded it, and handed it to me. In the text was an interview with Beth, and a certain paragraph was circled with red marker.

_Q: Is it true you're playing at the 1967 US Open in Las Vegas?_

_BH: Yes, I'll be there with my mother. Until then, I have back-to-back tournaments in California. After the Open I'm going to the Midwest for more tournaments for a few weeks._

_Q: And will you have any other family there, to cheer you on?_

_BH: No, I don't have any other family._

I stared at the words, feeling nauseous. She didn't even mention me. It was as if she and I were strangers.

"She'll be in Las Vegas in a month," Mr. Shaibel explained, with pity in his voice. "You could get to her then, since she won't be back in Kentucky. And... I was thinking... you could, well, _play_."

I glanced back at him, my brows furrowed.

"Play?"

"In the U.S. Open," Mr. Shaibel said hopefully. "You could win."

"And play against Beth?"

"Well--yes."

I paused, looking back at the text. _I don't have any other family._

"How would I get to Las Vegas?"

He shrugged. "You could drive."

"I don't know how to drive, and I don't have a car."

"I could teach you." He shrugged again. "How to drive. I'll give you a book to read about it, and I'll show you how. It's not hard. And, well, you can take my car."

"What?!" I scoffed, thinking he was joking. _Teach me? Take his car?_ "Mr. Shaibel, I couldn't possibly take your car."

"Believe me, you'd be putting it to use," he grumbled, leaning forward. "I can't drive it anymore. I have a bad leg."

"Why are you helping me?" I asked softly, my voice cracking. "We both know she doesn't want to see me, but I don't care and you do."

He looked down, at the board. His tipped king glinted in the light.

"Everyone deserves a family," he said quietly. "I never had one, so I may as well help yours. I'll get you the book tomorrow, and I want you to memorize every bit of it. Do you promise you will?"

"Yes," I agreed breathlessly. I couldn't believe he was really helping me.

"Next week, I'll show you the car and you can try driving it. You'll get the hang of it quickly, it isn't hard. And when you're ready, I'll put the keys in one of your drawers and park it outside with some money to get you started. You should probably leave at night, so no one sees you."

I looked into his deep brown eyes, my own bleary. One word came to my mind: _father._

"Thank you."


	6. Beth

I fingered the rough material of the letter, running the pads of my fingertips across the words. It was strange, to be only seventeen and yet so full of regret.

The letter escaped my hands, floating down to the floor of my bedroom. It slid across the wood, landing facedown. I didn't want to touch it anymore, or ever to read it again. A large part of me wanted to destroy it, to watch it brown and curl with flame. I felt immediately guilty, which of course I knew was the intention of the letter in the first place. He wanted me to know how much I had hurt her.

 _You're destroying her, Beth,_ he wrote, and I thought selfishly, _So?_ It wasn't my fault I was adopted and she wasn't. It _was_ my fault I wasn't writing to her, but I couldn't help that now. Too much time had gone by; it was better for her to forget about me rather than know what a fuck-up I was becoming. Hearing from me could've only hurt her; it was easier for her to let me go if I never reached out. Yes, it was cruel, but... well, I suppose it was just cruel. _I_ was cruel, and I knew no other way. The alternative was pain, and I would've moved the earth before I felt unnecessary pain.

I reached into my coin purse, feeling a pit in my stomach. I wanted to cry and scream, rip apart my room and burn that fucking letter. But more than anything, I wanted to feel nothing, I wanted to breathe painlessly. I wanted to be numb.

I shoved six pills down my throat, swallowing them without effort. It had been becoming easier and easier for me to take large quantities of them, and I didn't mind the taste as much anymore. My throat was clear but I felt like I was suffocating, like my own guilt had a hold of my neck. 

I shut my eyes tight, clenching my fists. My face felt warm as the blood rushed to my eyes when I squeezed them. I saw red blackness, the faint glow of light. 

" _Pull it together,_ " I forced out, my voice tight. I dug my fingernails into my palm and I welcomed the pain as my hands began to shake. I inhaled a sharp, painful breath, waiting for the pills to work. _My tranquility needs to be refurbished,_ Mother had said.

My mind was slowly clearing. I focused as hard as I could on the numbing sensation the pills gave me, trying to amplify it as much as possible. 

When I opened my eyes, I let out a depleting breath. My vision was watery, and I blinked a couple times to clear the blur. The air was dry and cool on my tongue. I released the pressure on my palm, unfolding my stiff hands. I turned them palm-up, noticing the little semi-circle indents in my skin. I was still and quiet, staring at those little marks.

 _I miss you, Violet._ It was easier for me to admit the truth when I was high and exhausted; when emotion didn't dare overstep the strict boundaries I set. The truth wasn't so crushing, so debilitating. So terrifying.

I looked to the floor, at the letter. I still wanted to burn it, but even more, I wanted to read it again. I reached for it, stretching, fitting the material between my index and middle finger. I pulled myself up, forcing my eyes to read the words a second time.

_Dear Beth,_

_Today marks the two year anniversary of your adoption. You have a new life now, one many orphans envy. I know you're busy, and I don't want to bother you, especially with old news, but you must know the truth._

_You're destroying her, Beth. There is such sadness in her eyes, sadness that has made its home in her. You must write to Violet, because that sadness will consume her if you don't._

_There is more to life than chess._

_William Shaibel_


	7. Violet

The night sky was just barely lit by the pale moonlight of the crescent. With its glow I spotted Mr. Shaibel’s rusty red truck across the street, waiting for me.

I was ready for this. I had always been, even staring at that ancient burgundy paint job, on the brink of escape. An image flashed across my mind, that of hugging Beth close and finally feeling safe again.

“Violet?” She might say, her eyes wide with joy and relief, “You found me?”

“I found you,” I might say back, breathlessly happy.

A breeze passed through the street, rippling my daydream. I focused on that red truck, on finding Beth.

I hurried across the street, gripping the keys tightly. I shoved them into that big red bastard and heaved open the door, its weight resisting me. _This thing probably survived both world wars._

I stepped up into the driver’s seat, slamming the car door and tossing my backpack into the passenger side. I reached over and opened the glove box, pulling out the contents onto my lap. Mr. Shaibel left me a white envelope with cash and an atlas so I could find my way to Las Vegas. I quickly counted the money, which was $125 dollars and an extra $10 for the U. S. Open entrance fee. I turned the light on, flipping through the atlas, before folding open the map of Kentucky.

“I-64 West,” I muttered to myself, dragging my pencil along the highway route. I made a note of a rest stop in Dale, Indiana I could go for the night and plan my day tomorrow. I had three days to get to Las Vegas, which was just enough time so that I didn’t have to rush but I also couldn’t spend much time relaxing.

It was strange to me how even though my driving education was rushed, Mr. Shaibel’s crash course made me feel like an expert. I walked through each step in my mind with deep breaths to dull my anxiety. I turned the key in the ignition, finding that sweet spot that roared the engine to life. I clicked in my seatbelt and gripped the steering wheel, going over my memorized route. I went through each step carefully, each turn and each distance on each road. I didn’t feel tired at all, so I knew there was no danger of falling asleep at the wheel. I didn’t sleep much those days anyway; the nightmares were awful.

“I’m coming, Beth,” I said to her, pulling out of the parking space. I took one last look at Methuen, not out of sentimentality, but to say goodbye to what had been my prison.

~

I awoke at sunrise in the back of the truck, my neck aching. I forced open my tired eyes to the bright world, to the morning. For a moment, I forgot where I was and what I was doing; running away from an orphanage to a twin sister that didn’t want me. I had been so used to the white sunlight beaming onto my face through tweed curtains, to hearing the lazy chatter and happenings of young girls who like me, were in prison. But waking up in that truck, in a rest stop on the edge of Indiana, I felt more solitude than hope. It was a different kind of prison.

I sat up, rubbing my neck to get the knots out. After quickly going inside the building of the rest stop for some coffee and breakfast, I climbed back into the driver’s seat. The coffee was tasted awful, but it woke me up enough to feel okay driving. I planned my day quickly; I would continue on I-64 through Illinois and exit onto I-70 in Missouri. I figured I could stay at a rest stop there for a few hours after getting there in the early afternoon, get some late lunch, and keep driving to a rest stop in Ellsworth, Kansas, where I could stay the night and hopefully relax a bit in the morning.

I turned on the radio, settling on a classical station. I made a mental note to buy some music on tapes once I got some more money. I was surprised Mr. Shaibel’s truck even played anything besides the radio, but there were only three settings so I didn’t have very many options.

When I pulled into the Ellsworth rest stop, I was exhausted. Driving for nine hours really took a toll on me, and there were only so many chess games I could play consecutively in my head. I turned off the engine, relaxing into the seat and closing my eyes. My entire body felt this numbing stiffness, and even worse, I was starving. The sun was setting, orange light filling the parking lot. I noticed one other car in the lot, and specifically the ridiculous number of tickets on the dashboard.

I took a deep breath, grabbing some cash and getting out of the car. I locked it, looking around. Kansas was even flatter than Kentucky, and the warm glow of the setting sun reached every horizon.

There was a diner next to the rest stop, called _Joe’s_. Hopefully they had good coffee.

I headed inside, jogging to avoid the chilly air. I pushed open the door, the bell dinging. It was a small place, but clearly a family establishment. I quickly wondered what it might be like to work in a restaurant with your family.

There were a couple customers, locals I guessed. There were some people in the booths, and three men huddled together at the bar. I sat down behind the bar and ordered a coffee, quickly looking over a menu and ordering the cheapest entree. I then heard one of the men laugh and another groan with annoyance. The closest one to me said, “I told you. Pay up.”

“I hate speed chess.” _Chess?_

I looked over at them, my interest piqued. My heart raced, and I leaned forward to see what they were doing. A chess board was set up on the counter, a black tipped king rolling across the board. The closest one to me was wearing black, except for a large brown cowboy hat that added to his ambiguity. He was on the white side, the player victorious.

The bartender set the coffee in front of me, and I quickly thanked him, looking back at the board. I was trying to figure out what the checkmate was, looking for the open diagonal that must have done in the cowboy’s opponent. It must have been Boden’s Mate…

“Gotta love a bishop pair,” I muttered to myself, finding the dark squared bishop that won the game.

“You play?”

I jumped at his voice, my heart jumpstarting. The man closest to me had turned around, smirking at me. He was surprisingly young, maybe early 20s, with gelled blond hair peeking out from under the brown hat. He had golden facial hair that just barely sparkled as he moved his head to the side, studying me. His grin was freshly smug after his win and it was oddly alluring. He leaned his elbow against the counter and eyed me in a curious way… a thoughtful way. It was attractive yet smothering.

I cleared my throat, looking back at my coffee anxiously.

“Um,” I sputtered, breathless, “a bit.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, tapping his fingers on the counter. His opponent was setting the board back up, and the third one was drinking a beer. They were both smoking, and when I smelled the smoke I realized I liked it. They were all young, college age, and I wondered if the car with all the tickets on the dashboard belonged to one of them.

“What’s your name?” The cowboy asked me, smiling wider. I tapped my nails on my ceramic mug, my heart still racing.

“Violet,” I responded, trying to sound confidant. I felt both like an adult and like a timid child; how strange it truly was to be seventeen, on the edge of childhood and the brink of life.

“Where you from, Violet?”

I shrugged, not sure if I really even knew. “Nowhere in particular.”

“Well, Violet from nowhere in particular,” he grinned, “you up for a game?”

I took a sip of my coffee, thinking about it. _Is this what adulthood is like? Strangers ask you to play chess in a diner at a rest stop in the middle of Kansas?_

“Okay,” I agreed, setting down my mug. He smiled and grabbed the board by the sides, sliding it over between him and I. The man who the cowboy had just beaten looked annoyed, as he seemed ready to play the him again.

“Benny?” He said, irritated, gesturing to the board.

“Hold on,” Benny told his friend, who rolled his eyes. He placed the chess clock next to the board. “I have a good feeling about her.”

I felt my cheeks warm and Benny adjusted the board, giving me the black side. I raised an eyebrow at his assuming I would play black, but didn’t say anything.

“Ready?” He asked, his eyes glinting. _What an asshole._

I didn’t respond, starting his clock instead. Mr. Shaibel told me about these clocks, so I knew how they worked.

He opened with e4 without taking his eyes off of me. Clearly he was very good, but very arrogantly wanting an ego boost by beating a stranger at chess. He probably assumed he’d win and just wanted to see me scramble for good moves.

He didn't know that I was ready for him.

I played c5, the Sicilian Defense, keeping my face expressionless. He just smiled even more, like he had already won.

_Knight to f3._

I played e6, opening the diagonal. He threatened my c5 pawn, taking a sip of the beer he was drinking. One of his friends lit another cigarette, watching us play.

I took his pawn, gently pushing the clock button. He took my pawn like I predicted and I activated my knight, putting more pressure on the center. _I refuse to let this dick beat me._

He moved his knight, threatening the d6 square. I looked into his eyes, which were greener than I expected. There was something deep and consuming about them; I forced myself to look back at the board. I saw the variations in my mind, biting my lip. I could not allow him to invade my territory, so I quickly blocked his knight with my d6 pawn. _He’s playing so arrogantly._

He put more pressure on the center and so did I, forcing his knight away from my queenside to the rim and thwarting his plans. I could tell in his face that he didn’t like it. I pushed my d file pawn forward and offered him a gambit, which he thoughtfully accepted.

We played in silence, each of us putting more pressure on the center. He was good, really good—he wasted no time moving his pieces expertly, dominating the center. Benny made my heart quicken, in more ways than one.

I locked in his knight. He glanced at the knight and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, deciding whether or not to retreat it further. He had a space advantage in the center, that was undeniable, but his cornered knight was going to be a problem as the middlegame continued; we both knew it. He ignored it and backed his queen with his rook instead.

“That was stupid, Benny,” one of his friends commented, smirked.

“Shut up, David,” Benny told him sharply, not looking away from the board. I fought the urge to grin. He was staring at my knight.

I played what he feared I’d do—Knight to d3, blocking his queen and rook. He looked up from the pieces into my eyes, so intensely I almost looked away.

He reconsidered retreating his knight and moved it back to its starting position on the bank rank, planning to push my knight away from white’s territory. I threatened his bishop and he moved it back. It felt good to force him to retreat; it was a dull high.

We played more quietly, trading bishops. Benny’s eyes were growing more intense, and I sipped my coffee casually. I didn’t want to give away what I was planning, and I didn’t mind how good he must have really been. He was a challenge, but we were evenly matched—we kept each other on our toes. Multiple times during the game, despite his arrogance, I was really enjoying it. Maybe I was the sadistic one.

When I put him in check, I expected him maybe to get angry at such an ego blow, maybe raise an eyebrow, I don’t know. I definitely didn’t expect him to start smiling, shake his head, look me deeply in the eyes, and down the rest of his drink. He set his glass down, a soft smile on his truly pretty face.

“Draw?” He asked softly, his eyes warm. He looked like a different man.

“In your dreams,” I replied airily. His eyes glinted, and without breaking eye contact, moved his king to safety one square over. I moved my knight forward and he attacked my queen with his rook, trying to push her out of his territory. I blocked the move with my knight, visualizing the exchanges that would follow, knowing I would come out on top. I forked his king and queen with my knight, giving him no choice but to take the knight and lose his queen.

“Fucking brutal,” the third friend muttered to David. I resisted smiling, but couldn’t help blushing. Benny bit his lip, focusing intently on his kingside. He attacked my bishop with his rook but I continued to attack with my back rank rooks, unfazed. I thought maybe he would resign, or maybe offer a draw again, but he played it out. He moved his knight around in attempt to protect the rook, but it didn’t make a difference. With care, I slid my rook down the back rank, checkmating his defenseless king.

Benny looked me in the eyes again, tipping his white king. My heart was pounding, my cheeks warm.

“You’re good, Violet from nowhere in particular,” he stated, starting to smile again. “Really good.”

“Th-thank you,” I sputtered, shifting in my seat.

“Are you on your way to Las Vegas?”

“How did you know?”

“We are too,” he grinned. “We’re playing in the Open. I’m, you know, Benny Watts.”

“Um… sorry, are you… famous?”

He furrowed his brows, leaning forward. “Violet, I’m the U.S. Champion.”

_Oh my god._

I choked, looking away. _Did that just happen?_

“Oh,” I squeaked.

He looked at me like he was trying to understand me, like there was something beneath the surface he didn’t understand. The entire moment felt like a strange, hazy dream; my brain felt cloudy. I barely noticed when the bartender put my food in a to-go box in front of me.

“You could win the Open, you know,” he told me, ordering another beer. I shrugged.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to play.”

He furrowed his brows and looked at me like I was a lunatic.

“Are you crazy? You have to play.”

“Why?”

“ _Why?_ ” He scoffed, incredulous. “Jesus, Violet. You’re not very self-aware.”

“Ironically enough, I’ve been told that before,” I replied, finishing my coffee.

“Why even go if you’re not gonna play?”

I had to make a quick decision: whether or not to tell him about Beth. It would have been risky to tell him… it didn’t make sense. He definitely knew about her, she was a celebrity at this point. Maybe it was better if he didn’t know, if… nobody knew.

“I’m… meeting someone. An old friend.” It wasn’t really a lie.

“Huh,” he hummed, eyeing me. “But you’re coming to the Open?”

“Yes,” I said, crossing my legs and leaning my head on my hand. His eyes were intoxicating. “What, you want me to come cheer you on?”

He grinned. “Something like that.”

I forced myself to look away, clearing my throat. If I hadn’t, I could have lost hours in that endless green…

“I’ll see you at the Open,” I said, standing. I was trying to shake off the heavy feeling, the gravity that attracted me to him. I pulled out the money for my meal and placed it on the counter.

“Goodnight, Violet from nowhere in particular,” he told me, his eyes sparkling and warm.

“Goodnight, Benny Watts.”


	8. Beth

When I stepped into the elevator, I could’ve screamed. I was finally alone and yet couldn’t bare to face what was happening in my mind. Townes was… gay?

I couldn’t choked. The way he looked at me… there was no way I could’ve known. I really thought he was attracted to me, not just my chess brilliance and skill, but my womanhood. Was everyone I knew a liar?

I gritted my teeth, stepping out onto my floor. I had to play chess tomorrow, bright and early, but all I wanted to do was get angry and lose myself. I was so sick of being abandoned, even by the possibility of romance with him.

I huffed, clenching my fists and heaving open the door to the hotel room I shared with my mother. I liked this room so much when we got here, the floral wallpaper, the oak cabinets, though now I felt a peculiar distaste for it. I wanted to leave it; I wanted to go home. At least I didn't have to play Townes tomorrow.

“Dear? Is that you?”

“Yes, Mother,” I called to her, her voice coming from the bathroom. I took a deep breath and tried to forget Townes’ intense eyes, the click of his camera as he captured me. I already hated being vulnerable; this just made it all worse.

My mother came out of the bathroom, looking like she had something awful to tell me. She was wringing her hands in that anxious way she always did, her eyes worried and serious. She gestured to the seat at our little table by the window, before sitting down herself.

 _Oh my god_ , I thought. _She knows about the pills._

Alarms went off in my head, my panic growing, my heart racing. _Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!_

I sat down across from her, clenching my fists even tighter. What was I going to tell her? How was I going to explain that I was addicted to her tranquilizer prescription? How could she understand that the pills gave me beautiful visions of the board on the ceiling, of the right move?

 _You could just tell the truth,_ Violet’s voice said in my head. She always showed up in my thoughts when I was in crisis; it was oddly reassuring, like she was there with me. Even during chess tournaments, sometimes I would hear her, telling me I could do it. She sometimes even told me what the right move was, though maybe that was just me thinking in her voice, assured by the illusion of companionship.

My mother cleared her throat, adjusting her rollers in her hair. She was pale and nervous, like she didn’t know how to tell me what she needed to.

“Beth, I got a call from Methuen earlier,” she started quickly.

“I don’t have to go back, do I?”

“No—no. It’s not that. It’s about… Violet.”

I froze. My limbs were stiff and immovable, my heart even more so. I didn’t respond; I only silently prayed that she wasn’t… that she wasn’t….

“A few days ago, Violet… well, disappeared.”

A pause.

“What?”

“Mrs. Deardorff thinks she ran away,” Mother explained. _Ran away?_ "Two days ago."

I let out a deep breath, though it was not as relieving as I had hoped. She was alive, probably, but still not safe.

“They don’t know where she is?”

“No one does. They think…” She trailed off, clearing her throat again. She really didn’t want to tell me this. “Violet was very withdrawn by the time she left. She barely spoke to anyone, according to the other girls. They think… she might have…”

I didn’t want to hear her say it. I didn’t want to even think it, but my brain automatically finished her sentence, fighting to understand what she might have done.

“Killed herself?” I asked, choked. The words were like an avalanche, knocking the wind out of me.

_You're destroying her, Beth. There is such sadness in her eyes, sadness that has made its home in her._

“They don’t know for sure,” Mother assured me, touching my shoulder affectionately. “She could just be—well, I don’t know, hitchhiking. Does she have any friends in the area?”

“No,” I told her, my breaths strained. “We didn’t… she doesn’t know anyone.”

“Do you know what she could be doing?”

“I—I don’t,” I admitted, before an idea hit me like a tsunami. I couldn’t tell if I wanted it to be true or not. “Do you think she could be looking for me?”

“Does she have our address?”

“I—I don’t know. Maybe she got it from Deardorff’s office or something."

“I’ll call back and tell them to check our house,” Mother said, nodding resolutely. “If she is there, Methuen will bring her back before she does anything… well, rash.”

 _She’s not crazy,_ I wanted to say. I wanted to defend her, defend my beautiful sister who had been my best friend for years. Her voice in the back of my head was still my best friend; somewhere, beneath all of the buried guilt and self-resentment within me, there was a very deep love for Violet. It was unwavering, but I thought that if I tried to express it, I would collapse.

 _This is it_ , I thought, _this is my punishment for being a horrible sister._ For not writing to her, for not going back for her like I promised. I was being punished, whether she ran away or she really did… hurt herself. Whichever the case, I had to live with it, because it was my fault.


	9. Violet

I stared, amazed, at the size and grandeur of the hotel hosting the U.S. Open. It was so tall and fabulous, and after spending three days driving past open plains, it was even more impressive. I had never seen anything so massive, so luxurious, waiting for me.

I slammed the car door behind me, continuing to marvel at the building. Mr. Shaibel had made sure to include the money for my stay here so I could compete. In truth, I still didn’t know it I wanted to. Competing in the Open would mean competing against Beth—and possibly playing her. That wasn’t the kind of sisterly bonding I was looking for.

But I did promise Mr. Shaibel. And he had given me so much money and direction and even his own car, so didn’t I owe it to him to play? Maybe it wasn’t fair of him to put me in this position, but regardless, I did say that I would play.

I opened the door to the lobby, marveling at the wide indoor space. Did people really stay in such beautiful places? I wandered to the front desk and booked my room for one night, handing over the $45. It was a two day tournament, which was starting in an hour, so I needed to figure out if I was playing or not, and fast.

I rubbed my hands anxiously, sitting down on a nearby loveseat to try to lay out my thoughts. If I played in the Open, I would keep my promise to Mr. Shaibel and do it for him, almost as a thank you. If I played, I might even win, which would mean national recognition. But I would have to play against Beth, which wouldn’t exactly get on her good side if she didn’t want to see me. But if she did want to see me, maybe she wouldn’t care if I entered, but taking the title from her? I couldn’t do that to her, and even though we hadn’t spoken in two years, I knew it would crush her if I did… if I won.

 _I’m sorry, Mr. Shaibel,_ I thought, my face feeling warm with an oncoming flow of tears. _I really am._

~

I straightened my only dress, pushing out the wrinkles. I looked strange, wearing my Methuen dress in such a different place. I needed different clothes.

It felt good to be clean after not showering for a few days, though I felt like I was in some stranger’s house instead of a hotel room. I brushed my hair, staring at the violent red shade in the steamy bathroom mirror. The weird thing was, I barely noticed my hair color anymore, so I often forgot it was the first thing people usually noticed about me. If I walked into Beth’s tournament, she would immediately see me, and I felt an odd desire to watch her play before I approached her. And, if I came up to her before the tournament started, I might’ve thrown her off. I wanted her to do as well as she could.

 _She abandoned you and you’re still doing her favors,_ part of me thought. I shook it off, pushing it down. I couldn’t afford to think like that… like this trip has been a waste.

I decided to think back to how I would cover my hair, before remembering that Mr. Shaibel left a black fedora in the backseat of the truck. My heart leapt as I remembered its existence—I discovered it when attempting to sleep in the backseat and feeling an uncomfortable ache in my back.

I took a deep, heavy breath, before stepping out of the bathroom and putting my shoes back on. I had only 10 minutes before the tournament started, and I really didn’t want to miss a single part of it. I hurried back down to the lobby, praying Beth wouldn’t be down there yet. I ran to my car and hurled open the door, grabbing the fedora and putting it on, checking how I looked in my sideview mirror. It was a little big on me, but the velvety texture felt nice beneath my fingers. I pushed my bangs back into the hat and tucked my hair behind my ears. The hat actually looked a bit stylish on me; I was starting to really like it.

I reentered the hotel with my new disguise, realizing that Benny must be around here somewhere. My conversation with him was only a few days ago, but I already wanted to see him again. I thought of how I might arrange that without Beth around…

I entered the tournament, amazed by the size of the space. Wooden chess boards on oak tables lined all the way across the hotel floor, leading to a stage-like setup where I guessed the finalists would play. Groups of people gathered near the boards, excited to start, and even a couple players had taken a seat.

“Wow,” I breathed, finding a side table with refreshments and snacks for the players. When no one was looking, I snatched a water bottle and a bagel, realizing I was starving. Nearby was a list of players and their table number for the first round. I quickly found Beth’s name, my heart jumping. _Harmon vs. Stevens. Table 16._

“16,” I muttered to myself, searching for the table, which was across the hall; and there she was. She was sitting at the white side, very still except for the bouncing of her foot. She was leaning her head on her fist, very deep in thought, looking off into the distance. Her hair was shorter and a different style, but that same shade of violent red.

“Beth,” I choked, and for the first time, I doubted the point of this entire trip. Of my running away, of my endless yearning and longing to be with my sister, of my insistence that there must be a reason for her not writing to me or visiting me. I doubted everything, my own current purpose, and the weight of it flattened me. Beth didn’t love me and she didn’t want me. She didn’t care. She chose this life, this chess celebrity existence, instead of being with me.

I didn’t feel relief. I didn’t feel grateful and happy and wistful; what an immature dream that had been. Stupid Violet—how could I have been so naive?

 _You know I’ll come back for you,_ she said.

 _Everything’s going to be fine,_ she said.

_I don’t have any other family._

I wasn’t even her family anymore, and she wasn’t mine, either.


	10. Beth

Somehow, I get through the first day of the tournament. It was a genuine surprise, really, that I held on to my undefeated title. All my brain permitted me to think about was chess, even when Violet’s voice weaseled its way into my head. It took everything in me to push her away, to shove down the guilt and sadness her disappearance had unearthed in me. She deserved so much better than a sister like me; she deserved a real family.

When I fell asleep that night, horrors plagued my dreams. In an instant, I was young again, a helpless child in the backseat of a speeding car. Except this time, when I looked into my mother’s tearful eyes in the rearview mirror, it wasn’t my mother. It was Violet, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were snowy white. “Close your eyes,” Violet said to me, before looking back at the road with a blank expression.

The dream melted and vanished, and I entered a hazy dark world, surrounded by tall figures. I looked down to my feet at the huge black and white squares, maybe three feet long, marble-like swirls decorating the beautiful ivory. The black squares were deep and dark and made me think of an endless descent, a fall into nothingness. I stepped on the white squares only, before realizing I was facing where the black pieces were, except they weren’t black: they were a crimson, bloody red.

I gasped, spinning around to look at the white side, my feet stumbling. The pawns were twice my size, though they were dominated in comparison by the back rank pieces. It took me a moment to realize that in substitute of the white queen was an enormous empty throne. It glittered and sparkled with some kind of ingrained jewel, drawing me closer to it. It was beautifully decorated, the ivory swirling and curving like magic. I stepped past the pawns on the seventh rank, closer to the beautiful throne. The ivory looked so soft, like it would be pillowy and warm. Mesmerized, I jumped up and collapsed into it, expecting a bed-like comfort. Instead, my back ached as my naive self slammed into the rock-hard material. I could have screamed in pain if I wasn’t distracted by the view of the board. The pieces looked smaller from up here, and across the board where the black queen would be, something huge caught my eye that I hadn’t noticed before in the grandeur of the whole setup. It was a throne, just like mine, except there were two differences: the first was that instead of white, it was a violent shade of red, the color of battlefields. It didn’t sparkle like the one I sat on, but it seemed to exude some kind of dark red liquid, like it was… bleeding. The liquid puddled on the floor around the throne, slowly and steadily soaking the surface.

The second difference was that this throne was not empty, but occupied. In it sat a woman, her legs crossed, her elbows touching the arms of the throne. Her fingers were laced together in front of her bowed head, blocking her face from view. Her dress was long, covering her feet, and the same shade of the dark liquid that puddled on the floor, though her throne was still that bright, violent red. Her crimson hair was long and straight, most of it out of view as it disappeared down her back. On top of her head laid a terrifying, spiked crown, the kind royalty only dream of. I stared in horror as her bowed head slowly lifted, exposing her face. She was completely still except for this motion, but then Violet opened her eyes to give me a glare that shook me with terror to my core.

I awoke at this moment, fighting for air, pierced by those eyes. I was sweating and jerking like a fish out of water, trying to escape that stare. I wanted to scream, remembering what had happened to her, what Mother and Mr. Shaibel had told me. I didn’t want to believe that she was dead, that she could have ended her own life just like our mother did. But this horrible nightmare, both of them, somehow confirmed her ultimate end. Violet was no evil Red Queen with a murderous stare. There was only sadness in Violet’s eyes, sadness that consumed her, sadness that I created knowingly. In the end, though, the Red Queen was as real as Violet was, and I created her, too.


	11. Violet

The room was still, completely captivated by the game unfolding before us. I was peeking behind two men who were muttering quietly to themselves, occasionally pointing at the pieces as they discussed Beth and Benny’s game. It was a fierce middlegame—Benny’s play of the Sicilian ensured aggressive play. I was biting my lip, so unsure of what was about to happen. Though I only saw her back, I could tell she was nervous—she was bouncing her foot in that way she does, clenching her fists beneath the table as she thought of her next move. I could just barely see the red indents in her palm from her fingernails. I thought of what Beth’s face might look like as she held back her tears. I didn’t want her to lose, I even found myself rooting for her, though she wasn’t responding to Benny’s moves in the way that I would. Even though she really did fuck me over, I knew that if she lost, she would be devastated. I couldn’t wish that on my own sister, regardless of what she did to me.

Every so often, Benny glanced at me, his dark eyes so absorbing to the point where I missed them when he looked away. He was still wearing that cowboy hat, paired with a leather jacket. If I leaned over, I could’ve seen the knife strapped in its case on his thigh. _Why does he always dress like a pirate?_

I was terrified he would put two and two together about me and Beth—it really was no use for him to know the truth, to know how I’ve failed at this stupid mission. After I saw Beth the day before, I wanted to turn right back around and drive before I realized that I had nowhere to go. I expected that once I approached Beth, she would take me home with her and welcome me with open arms. But I didn’t approach Beth, and she didn’t welcome me, so I had little to no hope left. I didn’t want Benny to know that, to know that I was just some lost child with no one in the world to care for her.

I prayed that the fedora would keep him from seeing our hair, though because of our faces, I wasn’t sure. I personally never thought I looked like Beth that much, even though we were twins. Still, there was a big difference between fraternal and identical. Beth and I had different cheekbones, different eye shape, different jawlines, at least I thought so. I’d say the most similar part of our appearances was our hair color, and possibly our noses. We have our mother’s nose. So, without the hair for him to compare, I hoped he wouldn’t be able to place it, especially when so focused on a chess game.

He played e5 after much consideration, threatening her rook. She was in serious trouble—his rooks were lined up in the h file and very well protected. If she didn’t act quickly, he would—

The move came to me, suddenly jolting me. I saw it, I could see the variation play out in my mind. Just behind my eyes, I saw Beth’s powerful rook check him in the back rank, king moves, knight check, king moves, pawn check, pawn take, rook trade, her other rook checks, king moves, and with a bishop check on g8, they would draw with a perpetual check. Benny and Beth would share the title, but Beth, my dear sister, wouldn’t have to lose.

I wanted to scream at her, wanted to tell her the move. The words were on the tip of my tongue before I realized how stupid that would be, giving myself away in the middle of her game and distracting her. She would think I was intentionally messing her up and hate me even more.

And then Beth—arrogant, playing to win Beth—blundered. She moved her rook over to g4, away from the attacking pawn instead of checking the Black king. _No, Beth! Don’t you see it?_

It was brutal. The game was over three moves later as her shaky hand offered her resignation. He took it humbly, telling her, “Tough game.” They would share the title as co-champions, but Beth lost. And she didn’t just lose, she was slaughtered on that board, mercilessly. I found myself admiring Benny’s tactics, the way he carefully laid out his traps while she was distracted with wanting to win—with _needing_ to win.

The audience broke into applause, and Benny broke the handshake, standing to pose for a quick photograph. The camera flashed, and I quickly hid behind the men in front of me in case Beth looked this way. Through the cracks between people, I saw glimpses of her look quickly towards the camera before hurrying to the elevators. _What will she do now?_ I didn’t want to imagine her devastated, sobbing, wrecked by such a crushing loss.

The crowd dispersed, and I looked over at Benny, across the hall. He was talking to some fans and reporters I think, having his picture taken, smiling at those who adored him. I wondered what it was like to have that kind of admiration from so many people and to maintain it so effortlessly.

His eye caught mine again, and I felt something warm rush through me. My heart jumpstarted as I held his gaze, trying not to reveal the effect he had on me. And then Benny smiled softly, but not in the way he smiled for his fans and for the camera. It was a warm, beautiful smile, and it lit up his whole face. I could tell he really meant it, and my heart fluttered as I realized that smile was for me and only me. Before I knew it, the moment was over, and he turned back to his crowd and kept entertaining them. I wished I had smiled back before it was too late.

I turned away, steadying my racing heart. I blinked a few times and put a hand on my chest, feeling my rhythmic heartbeat just beneath my fingers. I adjusted the fedora, tucking my hair behind my ears again. That smile flashed across my vision and I almost lost my balance.

“Violet,” I hissed at myself. I had to focus, I had to make a plan and figure out what I was gonna do. There was only so much time I could spend gazing at Benny in la la land.

I hurried to my hotel room and sat at my desk, desperate to know what I was going to do. I pulled out the hotel pad and a pen, tapping the ballpoint tip on the paper. I had no family and no place to live, because I definitely couldn’t go back to Methuen. The future felt hazy and foggy, so much so that my head started to hurt. I decided to focus on my next few steps instead, or I was worried I would panic.

I was starting to feel hungry, so I wrote down, _1) Eat dinner._ Easy. I could do that. There was a restaurant in the hotel.

 _Okay. Step two._ Even that felt like too much. _2) Sleep in truck._ I wrote the words carefully, as if they had more power than they really did. I couldn’t think of anything after step two, so I decided to figure all that out in the morning.

I took one last, beautiful shower, before checking out of my hotel room and going to the restaurant. I kept my fedora on in case Beth was around, keeping my head down unless I knew she wasn’t in the room. I sat quickly down at the end of the bar, ordering some cheap appetizers.

“Anything to drink?” The bartender asked me as he poured out shots for a group of people at the opposite end of the bar. I almost instinctively said no, before realizing that I could drink. I would be 18 in a few months anyway, and what did this guy care?

“Yes,” I blurted out, clearing my throat. _Shit—I don’t know any drinks!_ “Um, beer?”

“Ale? Lager?”

“Um—what do you recommend?”

“I like lager,” he answered, impressively carrying five shot glasses to the party. “Here—try this.”

He popped open a dark-green bottle and placed it in front of me with a charming smile. He was quite attractive, which I didn’t realize until he smiled. He had strawberry blond hair and pale eyelashes, and a strong, built body. I forced myself to look away, swallowing hard as I got a look at the bottle. It was colder than I thought it would be, my hand dampening from the condensation. The logo read _Carlsberg_ and I ran my thumb over the little king above the words. _Ah, irony._

I bravely took a sip, ignoring the bitter taste and trying to swallow without grimacing. I didn’t need to grimace, though—the crisp, clean finish was delicious, and the entire sip tasted much better than I expected.

“Mm,” I moaned, setting down the bottle. “Wow, that’s good.”

“It’s my favorite,” the bartender said casually, his eyes glinting, his lips turned up in a half-smile.

“Thank you,” I said, taking another sip and trying to smile. He gave me one last look before walking to the other end of the bar, where some newcomers wanted to order.

“He likes you.”

I jumped a foot in the air, almost dropping the bottle of beer. My eyes shot to the seat next to mine, where no other than Benny Watts was smirking.

“Jesus,” I muttered, placing my hand on my heart and exhaling a panicked breath.

“We've got to stop meeting like this,” he grinned, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I forgot how cocky he was.

“Shouldn’t you be having your picture taken?” I asked, sipping the beer again and attempting to conceal my quickened heart. It kept beating powerfully, shortening my breath.

“Well, when you’re _this_ famous, the paparazzi leave you alone after a while.”

I scoffed. What a prick.

“Joking,” he smiled, and suddenly I felt stupid. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

“Funny,” I said softly, giving him an almost apologetic look, feeling a bit guilty about how wrong I was. “What did you say, earlier?”

“Oh, just that he likes you,” Benny said casually, sitting back in his chair and sipping a drink I didn’t notice he had. The ice rattled in the amber-colored liquid.

“The—the bartender?”

“Who else?”

My first instinct was that he was playing some cruel joke on me. Why would the bartender like me? But then I thought, maybe Benny was giving me a compliment, or trying to tell me something I wasn’t aware of. Still, what he said didn’t make sense to me.

“Um… I don’t think so.”

He rolled his eyes at me, pushing his hair out of his face. I could smell his cologne, and I forced myself to not lean forward into him.

“What’s with the hat?” He asked, changing the subject, gesturing to it with his head.

“Oh, uh, it’s my dad’s,” I lied quickly, touching it with my fingertips.

“Why hide such beautiful hair?”

I gazed at him, trying to figure out if he was playing another joke or just being nice. But he was so casual about it, like the words effortlessly came to him. _Did he always say what was on his mind?_

I cleared my throat, taking off the hat and shaking out my locks. I pushed my bangs to the side, embarrassed of them, but he stopped me.

“No, I like them,” he told me, brushing my hands away from my forehead. _He likes them?_

I didn’t know what to say. I was blushing so hard I was about the color of my hair.

“What did you say you were doing at the Open?” He wondered aloud, curiously, rattling the ice in his drink. “Meeting someone?”

I looked away, my heart sinking. “Yeah.”

“How did it go?”

“Not very well,” I responded honestly, taking a big sip of the beer. My head was starting to feel cloudy. “The person I was meeting… didn’t really want to see me.” _Violet! Shut up!_

“That’s too bad,” he said, with a note of compassion in his voice. “Anyone who wouldn’t want to see you is a lunatic.”

I blushed again. _Shit, am I drunk?_

“Well, this person was… kind of my last hope,” I sighed, turning the bottle on the bar with my fingers. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“What about your family?”

“I don’t have any family,” I said bitterly. _Bitter, bitter Violet._ This was getting to be too much—I had to change the subject soon, or else I didn’t know what else I would blurt out.

“I saw your game today,” I told him, trying to cool my heated cheeks. “Merciless.”

He shrugged, nodding a little. He sipped more of his drink.

“Beth’s good. She almost had me,” he admitted, brushing more dirty blond hair out of his eyes.

I scoffed. “Yeah, you mean the draw?”

He furrowed his brows, his eyes changing. “Draw?”

“Yeah, the perpetual check,” I told him, confused. Why was he acting like he didn’t know? Of course he saw it, wasn’t that why he was threatening the rook that could check him on the next turn?

He still gave me that confused expression, those knitted brows. _Oh my god,_ I realized, _he doesn’t know._

“After you played e5,” I explained, “Beth played rook to g4, but she shouldn’t have. If she had checked you in the back rank, it would have led to a perpetual check.”

“The back rank,” he muttered to himself, looking away from me. “How? We just would’ve—traded rooks—“

“I can’t explain it well enough without a board,” I admitted, not even trying to hide what an amateur I was. He looked up at me quickly, determined.

“I have one in my room. Let’s go.”

“Wha—what?”

“Come on, we’ll play it out. I’m not gonna murder you, you know.”

“Um—I have food coming--”

“We’ll order room service. Violet?” He asked impatiently, looking at the door like we were running out of time or something. “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” I told him, my cheeks warm again. _I can’t believe I’m going to his room…_ “I have to pay—”

“I got it,” he dismissed, like it wasn’t even a problem. Before I could object he threw a five dollar bill on the bar, covering both the beer and the tip. I grabbed my hat with my left hand and I felt him take my right, pulling me away from the bar. _Was he always this insistent?_

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I told him, drinking what was left of my beer and putting on my hat. He walked so fast out of the restaurant but I kept up, liking how his warm hand felt in mine. His palm was soft and heated, his fingers firm. His rings were cool against my wrist.

We hurried to the elevator, where Benny impatiently pressed the 10th floor button. The elevator took what felt like forever—I tried not to look at him, not sure of what that would lead to. He kept holding my hand, tapping his foot with the floors, attentively watching which floor we were on. When we got to 10, he wasn’t as insistent and we walked at a normal place to his hotel room, #1003. He shoved in the key and pushed open the door, flicking on the lights.

His room was much nicer than mine, and cleaner than I thought it would be. His bed wasn’t made though, which made me flush for a reason I couldn’t place. Maybe it was flustering to be where he slept.

He pulled the coffee table to the middle of the room, setting a wooden case onto it. He started to unpack it, taking out the wooden chess pieces.

“The phone’s there. Order whatever you want,” he told me, not looking up from the board. It was so generous, which was not an adjective I would have paired with Benny. I was getting all sorts of things wrong about him.

I turned to where he pointed, at the bedside. I swallowed and picked it up, dialing the lobby. I tried to think of something to order, before remembering that Beth and I used to love to eat ice cream with our mom. I ordered a sundae and added three more Carlsbergs for good measure, and thought to myself, _Is this what it’s like to be rich? To order whatever you have a craving for?_

“Ready?” Benny asked me from the coffee table. He had set up the board to the positions of his and Beth’s game, sliding his pawn to e5. I nodded, clearing my throat as I sat opposite him, between the sofa and the coffee table.

“So Beth did this,” I started, sliding the rook to g4. “But she should have checked you.” I pushed the rook to his back rank, checking the Black king. “So then the king should move to g7, not h7. Do—do you see why?”

I was embarrassed, questioning the chess knowledge of the reigning national champion. He quickly nodded, keeping up.

“The bishop,” he said sharply, ready for the variation I was getting to.

“R-right. King to g7, knight checks, king is forced to h7. White has this resourceful pawn, which in my opinion, sends a message, like, you can take my pawn, but you can’t really, because that forces a rook trade and things go badly for Black,” I explained, not bothering to use whatever fancy chess language I didn’t know. This was just how I thought about chess. “So Black is forced to do something else, which is pawn takes pawn, essentially trapping the king in his own corner because he can’t escape the knight. So after the rook trade, White plays rook to b8 check.” I pushed the other rook to the back rank. “Black’s only option is king to h7, which as you said, brings us to the bishop. Bishop checks in the back rank, forcing the king to h8. Bishop moves and the rook gives check. The king is forced to be chased around by the bishop, so it leads to a perpetual check, and thus, a draw.”

Benny stared at the pieces, at the chase between the bishop and the king, one the king would never win but never lose. When he looked up at me, that warm thing rushed through me again. My cheeks were warming again, and I continued to feel embarrassed, but for a different reason. I’d never talked to anyone about chess like this before, not even Mr. Shaibel. He and I usually played in silence, so it was strange and different to have somebody I could drunkenly blurt out all my thoughts to.

“When did you think of that?” He asked me, so focused in his gaze, like I was a particularly challenging puzzle. “After the game?”

I furrowed my brows at his question. “After? No, I thought of this during the game. After you played e5.”

He stared at me, mesmerized. I was so confused.

“What?” I asked, my head feeling even more cloudy. “Look, just because I don’t use all your fancy chess words—“

“There you go again,” he interrupted me, “not being very self-aware.”

Before I could register those words, the room service knocked on the door and startled me again. _I really need to stop jumping._ I cleared my throat and stood up, opening the door. My mouth watered as I stared at the beautiful ice cream sundae, all for me.

“Yes!” I beamed, grabbing it and the spoon. I set it on the nightstand and got the beers as well, smiling hugely. I never got to have such desserts before—not in such quantity, in such quality.

“Thank you!” I called to the server, shutting the door.

“Ice cream?” Benny laughed, leaning on his hands. “And beer?”

“Yes and yes,” I told him, getting a beer and my sundae and sitting back down.

“How old are you? I don’t actually know.”

“I’ll be 13 in November.”

“Ooh, she plays chess _and_ makes jokes.”

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” I laughed, realizing how unaware he was of my shitty, shitty life. It was hilarious to me, my gut bursted with giggles. “Hey, can you open this for me?” I passed him the beer, and he rolled his eyes, but did it for me anyway with one of his keys. I took a long swig of the crisp, cold beer, and felt it go all the way down to my stomach.

“Play me,” he said. It wasn’t a request, but not a demand, either.

“Okay,” I agreed. He must have set the board back up when I was at the door, because his game with Beth vanished. There was a glint in his eye, and he rubbed his hands, ready.

“Don’t worry,” I grinned, “I’ll go easy on you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this is late!! i had the worst week of my life so i had to pound out this chapter tonight and i didn't want to rush it because it's important. thanks for reading!!!<3  
> -s


	12. Violet

There was something bright shining in my eyes, and I squeezed them to savor what was left of the sweet darkness. I felt a quiet moan escape my lips as I shifted, feeling the soft pillow beneath my fingertips.

_Pillow? I don’t have any pillows in my car…_

I gasped, jolting awake. The room was bright and it stung my eyes, adding to my panic and confusion. As soon as my eyes adjusted, I took a frantic look around the room. The curtains were open and sunlight poured in, illuminating Benny’s hotel room. The chess board on the coffee table reflected the last game played, the captured pieces laying on their sides. I spotted six beer bottles and remembered them with regret.

I looked down, kicking away my covers. I was still in my clothes, though I had no shoes on. I was in Benny’s bed… Where was Benny?

The pillow that would have been next to my own was missing, and I quickly spotted it on the couch next to a navy blue blanket on the floor. I tried to catch my breath, thinking of what it might be like to share a bed with Benny.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on what happened last night. Benny and I played chess, obviously. I don’t know how many times, but it must have been late when we stopped, because I had a few hazy memories of our many chess games.

I rubbed my eyes, starting to feel a headache come on and reality set in. Somehow, I had managed to forget last night that I was a runaway orphan with nowhere to go, but I remembered now. Tomorrow had arrived, and I still had no plan. I figured Beth was already gone, and so was my chance to talk to her. I almost regretted not approaching her… almost.

I wanted to cry, right there into my hands. I was hopeless; I could count how many possessions I had on my fingers and I was running out of money. I would have to live in the truck until I found a job, and who would hire some homeless girl with no identification? I didn’t have a driver’s license or my birth certificate, which is probably needed to have a driver’s license, and I sure didn’t have a residence to write down on a job application. I’d never been anywhere outside Kentucky before and I had no idea if I could even survive for much longer without a home, job, money, or a friend in the world. I wanted to sink right there into that mattress and disappear, unwanted, forgotten, alone.

In a flash the door opened and Benny appeared, holding two mugs of steaming coffee in his hands. When he caught my eye I looked away quickly, not wanting him to see me upset. Instantly, I yelled at myself to breathe, to not let him see me crack. I had to be strong, I had to be strong…

“Violet?” He called me, concerned. I couldn’t look at him yet. I wouldn’t let myself cry in front of Benny.

“Good morning,” I choked out, my voice shaking. _Fuck_.

“Are you okay?” I could hear him making his way over to me on the other side of the bed and held back my tears.

“I’m fine,” I quavered, squeezing my fists. _Don’t cry, don’t cry!_

“Violet,” he said. I felt his warm hand on my back and I wanted more than ever to disappear.

I couldn’t help looking at him. He was so concerned, his brows knitted, his eyes shining. His dirty blond hair was messy and tousled, his usual leather jacket missing and replaced with a plain black t-shirt. He said my name again but I barely heard it before I began to cry. Every humiliating second of it was more torturous than the last until he pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me. I started to heave with sobs, my gut aching, my vision blurry. Benny was stroking my hair, silently holding me, letting me cry.

I took some very deep breaths, depleting my lungs and finally stopping the flow of tears. I felt empty, blank; just a big, blank nothing.

“Violet,” he whispered, “what's wrong?”

I considered lying. I wanted to. But the thought of lying made me feel instantaneously guilty—Benny had been so generous to me, so kind and caring. He didn’t deserve to be lied to.

“I have nowhere to go,” I told him, my voice as empty as I felt.

“How can that be true?”

I sighed, pulling away and looking into his deep green eyes. It was the first good look of them I’d had since we met.

“You don’t understand,” I insisted, “I don’t have _anyone_. I am completely, utterly, painfully alone.”

His eyes were broken, still not fully believing me. I took his hands and squeezed them.

“Violet.”

“Benny,” I said, looking at our hands, enclosed.

“You could come with me.” I looked up, expecting hesitancy, but he was serious. His eyes didn’t look broken anymore; they looked lighter, like seawater up close.

“What?”

“I live in New York City,” he continued, squeezing my hands back. “And I have a blowup mattress.”

“I—I wouldn’t be able to pay you—”

“I don’t care about that,” he dismissed, and it reminded me of him paying for my drink last night. “Just say you’ll come. Will you come?”

I gasped, speechless. I wasn’t ready for such an offer, especially from him. He was technically still a stranger, but maybe we weren’t strangers anymore. He was offering to let me live with him, for free, in one of the greatest cities in the world. How could I say no?

“Yes,” I breathed, my breath catching. I couldn’t believe it.

He released my hands with his right and brushed it against my left cheek. I felt his index finger trace the inch-long scar just below my cheekbone, a scar I so often forgot was there.

“I have only one condition,” he proposed softly, stroking my cheek. It felt soothing, my skin tingling. “That we train.”

“Train?”

“You train me, and I train you, and then you play in the U. S. Championship.” I was speechless again, searching in his eyes for another option. He sensed this. “Violet, why are you hesitating? You could _win!_ ”

“I don’t play to win,” I told him.

“Exactly,” he insisted, tucking some hair behind my ear. I tried to remember the last meaningful human contact I had before this… it must have been the goodbye hug I got from Beth.

I still didn’t understand what he meant, and he sensed this too.

“Violet,” he started, “you’re right—you don’t play to win, and that’s what makes you special. If I learned anything last night when you kicked my ass four times in a row, it’s that you win because you love chess, not because you love to win. You have no idea how rare that is, how _precious_. Take it from me, I’ve spent my life winning because the alternative was failure, and the only games I’ve truly loved have been with people who truly love chess. People who were destined for it, people who come alive during play. People like you.” He squeezed my hands again, seemingly surprised at himself for admitting all of this to me. “To think of all of that talent and passion wasted is… unbearable. The world deserves to know who you are, Violet.”

There was a pause, a heavy silence. I was flattered, grateful, scared, exhilarated, stunned.

“Okay,” I agreed, breathless. “I’ll do it. Benny,” I squeezed his hands and looked deeply into those pretty green eyes, “thank you.”

“Thank me when you win,” he grinned, causing me to smile too. “Provided you beat Harmon, of course.”

I tried my best to keep my expression unchanged as he said that. Beth would obviously be playing in the national championship, but I hadn’t thought of having to play her yet. Still, if it was the price to pay for having a place to stay, I would pay it.

“Maybe I will,” I responded, trying to shrug casually.

“She reminded me of you,” he mused. “I couldn’t place it, though.”

“Probably the hair,” I said, my heart racing.

“Mm, no,” he thought aloud, “something in the eyes, I think.”

“So… when do we leave for New York?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “And did you drive here in your car?”

“No, I came with friends. We can take your truck,” he suggested, smiling again. “We can leave now, if you want. There’s nothing keeping me here.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay. Let’s go.”

~

In a strange way, it felt good to be back on the road again, maybe because I had a companion this time. Benny smoked cigarettes in the passenger seat and played chess with me orally, something I hadn’t done since the day Beth left. The highway and open plains were much less boring when I could imagine a chess board on them.

“Rook to a1,” I sang, grinning, “and I win again!”

“Damn it,” he huffed, furrowing his brows.

“Silly you, falling for my tricks.”

“Damn bishop trade.”

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel to the country station on the radio, still smiling. Benny was right, I did truly love chess, but it still felt good to win. I thought of our game, imagining the pieces, thinking of Benny’s careful fingers on them.

“Can I have a cigarette?” I asked him, curious. He narrowed his eyes at me jokingly, grinning.

“Tell me how old you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me your age and you can have a cigarette.”

“Why do you want to know my age?”

“Because you won’t tell me.” I wondered if he was used to always getting what he wanted.

“Fine,” I agreed. “I’m 17.”

“You’re a little young for smoking, yes?”

I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully. I took a cigarette from the pack myself, and he lit it for me. I coughed hard at first, having to roll down the window for some fresh air. I didn’t care for the taste, but I loved the smell of the smoke. It reminded me of something, of someone maybe, a memory buried down. I couldn’t place it.

“You told me you didn’t have any family,” he brought up, and I squeezed the steering wheel anxiously. I didn’t want to lie again. “What happened to them?”

“They’re all gone,” I told him. “One is dead and two abandoned me.”

“Oh,” he muttered, and I puffed the cigarette again, not wanting to talk more about it. I didn’t want to be pitied.

“It’s fine, really. They were all pieces of shit,” I admitted. Maybe that wasn’t how I really felt, maybe it was. All I knew was that it didn’t feel like a lie. “The alive ones, at least.”

“Well,who needs ‘em.” _I do, Benny. I need her._ I wondered how long it would be before I had to tell him about Beth. “Did they teach you how to play?”

I considered the question. “Yes and no. I learned the game with family, but I learned to love it with a friend.”

He was quiet for a moment before responding. “The Vegas friend?”

“Um—no. A different friend.”

“Are you always this secretive?” He asked me, though his tone wasn’t impatient or offended. He seemed truly interested in the answer to the question, like he was curious.

“Sorry… I don’t like to talk about it. My… life before today.”

“So who are you, then, today?”

“I’m Violet,” I told him. “Just Violet, from nowhere in particular.”


	13. Violet

It always started the same way. I was holding my seatbelt so tight against my chest, the speed of the car making me nauseous with anxiety. I was breathing fast, but I didn’t want Beth to know I was scared. She was never scared.

Eyes wide, I looked over at Beth, who was watching the rearview mirror with our mother’s image. I could just barely see the edge of Mom’s hair in the reflection, but not much else because I was on the driver’s side. In retrospect, I was glad I never saw her face.

“Close your eyes,” Mom said, her voice empty. I felt the car accelerate and Beth grabbed my hand and gave me a look that burned into my memory. It was the only time in my life I ever saw her scared, and I will never, ever forget it. Beth knew what Mom was doing before I did. That look was a warning, and simultaneously, a goodbye.

Something lurched me forward and I squeezed Beth’s hand. My left cheek exploded with pain and my left hand soaked with blood, but Beth’s hand was iron in mine. My vision was fuzzy, my ear ringing, my face aching. The pain was overwhelming. I tried to scream but my voice was dry; there was so much blood all over the back of the driver’s seat. Was it my blood? Was it Beth’s?

“Violet!” Beth was screaming, over and over. “VIOLET!”

 _Beth_ , I wanted to say. _I’m here, Beth…_

“You have to wake up, Violet!”

“Beth,” I tried. No air left my throat.

“Don’t go, Violet! Don’t leave me!” She was shaking my hand violently, trying to keep me from falling asleep. There was sweet darkness ahead; I wanted it.

“VIOLET! WAKE UP!” I tried to open my eyes, tried to look at her. She was a hazy red blob, hyperventilating, screaming. I was still silently screaming, trying to stay awake, but my eyes closed. I was becoming exponentially tired, wanting to sleep to avoid the pain in my cheek.

“I’m sorry!” I wanted to cry, “I’m sorry!” I couldn’t resist the darkness; I dropped into it.

This was when I always woke up. “I’M SORRY!” I screamed, waking myself and jolting upwards with all the force in my body, trying to resist the tiredness I felt; to stay awake for Beth. My feet kicked, my lungs gasped for breath, my voice hoarse.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, reaching out for her hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Violet?” Someone said. I opened my eyes, searching for Beth, for that hazy red blob; but she was never there.

My breaths were short and panicked. I was startled by someone touching me, warm eyes and blond hair coming into view.

“Violet?” Benny said again, caressing my upper arms. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re with me. You’re with me.”

 _I’m with you,_ I thought, trying to take slower breaths. _I’m with you, I’m with you._

Tears pricked in my eyes. I touched my cheek, somewhat expecting the pain from the dream, but I just felt that thin white scar. I really was just with Benny.

“Fuck,” I gasped, pissed at myself for this happening. I didn’t want Benny to see me like that, like a scared little girl. _Stupid, stupid Violet_.

“I’m sorry, Benny,” I whispered, putting my hands over my eyes in shame. I must have woken him.

“It’s not your fault,” he told me, gently pushing my hands away from my face. “It’s okay.”

“Go back to sleep,” I shakily muttered, taking some longer breaths. “I’m fine.”

“Will you sleep?” He touched my left cheek with his fingertips.

“No, I have to stay up,” I told him, taking deep inhales. “I can’t go back to sleep. I’ll just have it again. But you, you should go back to bed.”

“I’ll make some coffee,” he said, standing up and turning towards the kitchen. I wanted to tell him again to go back to bed, but one of the things I’d learned about Benny was that when he made his mind up, there was no changing it.

I heard him shuffling in the kitchen, putting the kettle on and setting up a French press. We had gotten to New York late last night, so I didn’t get the full tour of the kitchen yet. I wondered if I would ever be so familiar with this apartment, so comfortable in it, the way Benny was.

I turned a lamp on, rubbing my eyes. I felt exhausted from the nightmare, from the drive yesterday, from the lack of sleep. It was four in the morning. I hated that I woke Benny, that I brought him into all my drama again. I was furious with myself.

I felt Benny sit next to me again, handing me a mug of steaming coffee. I pushed the pain down; I didn’t want to cry again.

“Are you alright?” He asked me, putting his hand on my upper back. It felt nice and my skin tingled.

“No,” I said honestly, sipping the coffee. He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.

“I get them too,” he muttered, tapping his fingers on his mug. “Nightmares.”

I didn’t know what to say. I worried that if I asked about his nightmares, he would ask about mine.

“Yeah, they’re a real pain in the ass,” I said bitterly. _Maybe I shouldn’t blame myself so much for having them._ “You’re sweet to stay up with me.” Bravely, I took his hand. It was warm and his palm was soft; I didn’t realize how much I wanted to hold it until I already was.

“I’ll always stay up with you,” he said softly, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

Night passed into morning. To stay up, Benny and I listened to his records and sat quietly together, sipping coffee and holding hands. It was nice to not feel the pressure to say anything, to bare myself. He didn’t make me talk, he didn’t ask any questions. He just held my hand, tapped his foot along with the music, let me lean my head on his shoulder. It was exactly what I needed.

We made eggs and bacon and he showed me around the kitchen. I tried to hide how inexperienced I was, hoping I wouldn’t have to ask him too many times to show me how to use his appliances. Before Beth and I went to Methuen, Mom always did everything, so I had no real idea how to take care of myself. It was a good thing, an excellent thing, that Benny was there.

He showed me his chess book collection, taking out a bunch for me to read and making a stack for me. I’d never really read a chess book before, Beth didn’t like it when I read hers. I didn’t know what to expect.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” he told me, sensing my unease. He then grinned widely and put another book on top of the stack, and the image of him on the cover made my mouth twitch with a smile. “Hey, maybe you’ll like this one.”

“It’s already my favorite,” I joked, picking it up and running my fingers along the smooth edges.

“I want to show you around,” he said suddenly, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “I live right by Central Park.”

I nodded and grinned, containing my excitement. I still couldn’t believe I was really in New York City; I was determined to see it all. I shoved my feet in my shoes, ready.

“Do you have other clothes?” He brought up, brows furrowed. _Um… crap._ I had been praying he wouldn't notice.

“No,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks pink. “Everything I own, you’re familiar with.”

“We’ll stop at Kresge,” he said, shrugging on a light jacket. _He wants to… buy me clothes?_

I wanted to argue, but then I thought, what’s the harm? Benny had more money than I could even dream of and I did need new clothes. I decided not to say anything, allowing myself to accept his charity.

As we walked to the park, I remained mesmerized by everything around me. The city was so alive, so prosperous. The buildings were huge and tall, everything was magnificent and fascinating, even the people. The air was fresh, the Park smelled like grass after a rain. I wanted to stay there forever.

We made a quick stop at Kresge, which was much bigger than I expected. A salesperson picked some clothes out for me and Benny bought them all without hesitation. After we left, he got me a hot tea and walked with me through the winding paths of the entrance to the park. There was so much to look at and see; playgrounds, horse-drawn carriages, children playing, dogs running. It was beautiful; I fell in love with the vitality of the city.

Something by the reservoir caught my eyes; lines of tables and chairs, men sitting and focusing intently in front of them—

“Chess!” I gasped, smiling hugely. I grabbed Benny’s hand, starting to pull him along with me. He started laughing, letting me drag him closer.

“You’re like a kid at the zoo,” he chuckled, and I rolled my eyes playfully

“I bet you have some adoring fans over there,” I grinned, skipping towards the players. “I know how you love signing autographs.”

“Ha, ha.” We got closer, and my eyes searched the tables for a good game. The men played each other as well as passers-by; I loved the openness of it, the sharing of chess among strangers.

“Benny Watts!” Someone gasped, one of the men playing standing up to gape at Benny. “What an honor! I’m Saul, Saul Stevens.” The man smiled and hurried toward us, shaking Benny’s hand. Benny was smiling humbly, politely saying hello.

“And who’s this?” The man asked, turning to me. He had kind blue eyes and gently shook my hand.

“This is Violet,” Benny introduced me, grinning. “She’s a genius.”

“Do you play?” Saul asked me, and I blushed.

“I—I do, yes.”

“Oh, please,” he implored me, gesturing to his table with his chess board set up. “I rarely get to play geniuses.”

I looked to Benny, who nodded encouragingly at me. I bit my lip, taking a steadying breath before sitting down across the table from the man. He grinned widely, his childlike excitement fascinating to me. I supposed being friends with Benny came with certain privileges, including being seen differently with him, even by strangers.

Saul moved to e4, and I looked at Benny out of the corner of my eye before playing c5, the Sicilian. The game was over 14 moves later, my surprise attacks knocking Saul off of his feet. When I put him in checkmate he grinned as he tipped his king, as if glad to do so.

“You are a wonder,” he told me, his eyes twinkling.

“May I play you next, Miss?” Another man touched me lightly on the shoulder, pointing to his chess board. When I looked around, I realized all of the men were standing around us, either pointing to my game and discussing it or trying to get my attention to play them next. I smiled, unable to believe it.

“Yes,” I told the second man happily, getting up and going to his board. That game was over 23 moves later, and the next, 19. I worked my way through all of the players, as they all wanted a taste of my abilities. The men even started to applaud me, and I felt high on their praise. I had gotten so little of it in my life.

“Thank you,” I blushed, tucking some hair behind my ear, before feeling a familiar hand take mine.

“You were amazing,” Benny said quietly in my ear, sending shivers down my back. His breath was warm on my neck, and I felt the loss of his body heat as he pulled away from me to address the crowd.

“Her name is Violet,” Benny grinned, “And don’t worry, folks. You’ll see her again.”

The men clapped, and I smiled at them again. I waved to Saul, who was beaming at me. I never would have known him if it weren’t for chess, if it weren’t for the game that brought us together. He reminded me of Mr. Shaibel.

Benny and I headed back to the water, watching the ducks be fed down at the shore. Turtles turned over in the shining water, their shells brilliantly glittering.

“Look!” I giggled, pointing to the turtles and ducks. I heard a couple quacks and couldn’t help but marvel at them. I smiled so wide my face hurt, and when I looked over at Benny, he was gazing at me.

“What?” I asked him, worried I did something wrong.

“Only you, Violet, can walk up to a group of chess players with the U.S. Champion and still captivate all of them,” he said, still gazing. He wasn’t jealous; he was mesmerized by me, and it was euphoric. “And I think this is the first time I’ve seen you really smile.”

“It feels like the first time ever,” I told him honestly, sighing out the fresh air. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.”

He squeezed my hand, his eyes warm.

“Let’s go home,” he told me, tucking some hair behind my ear. _Fuck, I love it when he does that._

“I’ve never had a home before,” I breathed, leaning into his hand. His eyes seemed to be getting greener by the second.

“Well, you do now.”


	14. Violet

I glanced up from the pages, running my eyes over Benny's focused expression. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, a line in his forehead pushing out, his eyes flicking over the words. He was very still, except for the page turns every minute or so. He turned the page carefully, with precision, but with something else too; I couldn't place it. The muscles in his arm flexed as he did it, the rolled up sleeves revealing another inch of skin on his forearm. I watched him, unable to look away. That simple gesture made me lean forward unconsciously, magnetized, drawn in.

His eyes flicked towards me and my heart leaped. I hurriedly looked back to my book, staring at the chess diagram without registering the positions at all. I barely even noticed the black and white squares--all I wanted was to look back at him. I took a chance, exhaling a shaky breath as I looked back. His eyes were back on the book, but I could tell he wasn't reading it. His face was too relaxed, his eyes still.

And then they looked at me again, and I didn't look away. My heart was powerful in my chest, my cheeks hot. The whole room felt entirely warmer. His gaze was addictive; every second was better than the last. I saw nothing of the room; I saw only Benny.

Suddenly he closed his book, not bothering to mark his page, and tossed it inattentively on the side table. He kept his eyes on me, a slight smile on his lips.

"Do you want to go to a bar?"

"Right now?"

"Some friends of mine invited us to Joan's. Wanna come?"

A bar. With Benny's friends? I wasn't sure, the idea made my stomach turn. What if they didn't like me? I didn't know who they were, much less the type of people Benny hung out with. But it felt nice to be invited, and I did want to go out and experience the city some more.

"Okay," I agreed, putting my worries off to the side. _What's the worse that could happen?_

"They're gonna love you," he assured me, giving me a small smile. He got up from his armchair, finally breaking eye contact with me to slip on his shoes. "Especially because of how humble you've made me."

I let out a smooth laugh, feeling myself relax. It was so easy to be around Benny.

We dressed quickly, setting out into the chilly night. It was early autumn, somehow; the leaves were on the verge of falling, the days rainer. The night was cool, the streets busy outside. Joan's was only a couple blocks away.

The bar was louder than I expected, but my ears adjusted. Benny seemed to know everybody; even there, he was a celebrity. He led me through the crowd by my hand, and the group of people I guessed to be his friends did a simultaneous shot of some brown liquor at the bar. Benny headed up to them, releasing my hand to grab his own shot, grinning at his friends. There were two men on the side closest to me, and I recognized their faces from the diner in Kansas. They must have been the ones to drive him to Las Vegas--they were chess players.

One of them coughed from the strength of the liquor, barely opening his eyes to see Benny.

"Yo, Watts," he said, his voice tight. His hair was light, but a more dishwater blond than Benny's. His eyes were crystal blue, his jawline square.

"Hey, David," Benny said, downing the shot without reaction after swallowing. "David, Mike, you remember Violet."

"The girl from Kansas," David remembered. I recognized David as the one who lost to Benny.

"The one who kicked Benny's ass," the other laughed, inebriated. Mike had dark hair and brows, but a bright smile. Benny rolled his eyes at his comment, proceeding to order two beers from the bartender. I cleared my throat, taking a look around. Most people were young, some not. A couple people danced the the upbeat music, women with heavy makeup and men with fun-patterned shirts. It felt like a whole other world from Methuen, from everything I knew.

"She still kicking your ass, Benny?"

"Every day," he groaned, but with a joking tone in his voice. His dark leather jacket shone in the bright bar light.

"Violet," a woman said, with a soft, sexy voice and a French accent. She said my name like it had three syllables, which made it sound far more elegant than it was. "What a beautiful name."

The woman came into view. I hadn't noticed her before; she had been sitting next to Mike, on the far side of the bar. Her hair was long and dark, her eyes a deep, bottomless, rich brown. She had black eyeliner along his eyes, her cheeks tinted with pink. Her elegant black scarf was tied around her neck, the fabric flowing down her creamy skin. She was indescribably beautiful.

"Violet, this is Cleo," Benny said uneasily, gesturing to me, then Cleo. He looked uncomfortable and cleared his throat.

Cleo stuck out a hand with a warm smile.

"Bonjour," she greeted me. I shook it; her skin was soft, her nails perfectly manicured. "Benny told me all about you on the telephone."

My cheeks felt warm, and I heard Benny clear his throat again. He was giving her a look, but she waved it off and smiled gloriously. I felt a burning desire to know what he had said about me.

"So you are a chess player?" Her voice was so soothing, yet her striking beauty and sophistication was intimidating. I wondered if she had ever been more than friends with Benny.

"I am, yes," I answered, pushing some hair out of my face. The bartender set down Benny's beers, and Benny slid one over to me. I gave him a quick smile and took a sip. He was looking at Cleo; there was something in his eyes, something I didn't know.

"Did you play in the Open?"

"No," I admitted, biting my lip. "But I'll be playing in the Championship."

"Ooh, Benny," Mike teased, slurring his words. "Between her and Harmon, you don't stand a chance in Ohio."

My heart started to beat faster at Beth's mention. Little did they know, both of us were Harmon.

"Shit, it'll probably come down to you two," David told me, sipping a beer. I felt my stomach turn; I was totally unprepared to even think about that, much less talk about it.

"Violet, would you like to smoke with me outside?" Cleo suggested, gesturing to the back door with her pack of cigarettes. I wasn't sure about leaving Benny, but I did need some fresh air.

"Okay," I told her, taking another sip of my beer before setting it back down on the bar. I started to follow her, wondering how uncoordinated and clumsy I must have looked next to her elegant walk. Her every motion exuded grace.

Outside, she handed me a cigarette between her fingers, lighting it for me. I stuck it in my mouth, tasting the familiar tobacco. There were lots of other people smoking too, talking mostly, some alone. The alley between the bar and the building next to it was narrow, creating a dense pocket of cigarette smoke in the air.

"Do you live with Benny?" She asked, puffing her cigarette and giving me a sly smile.

"Yeah, we're training for the Championship," I told her, flicking a bit of ash off of my own.

"Just training?" She gave me a mischievous smile, and I blushed hard. I knew what she meant and it embarrassed me, but I couldn't help but smile a bit, too.

" _Just_ training."

"Hmm," she hummed, that same look in her eyes. "He likes you."

"I think he might like you too," I told her, not thinking it through. "I saw how he looked at you."

"Mm, no, that's long over," she assured me, like it was old news. "Just a fling. We are too different."

I nodded, understanding. I'd never been in a relationship before, but I knew about two people being too different.

"So do you like him?" She asked me eagerly. At my hesitation to answer, she said, "Don't worry, I won't tell him."

My cheeks were warm again, and I laughed uneasily. I wasn't sure if I even knew.

"I-I think I do," I admitted, to her and to myself. I smiled girlishly, taking a long drag of my cigarette.

She smiled at me, but then her smile fell, and she touched my arm and said, "Be careful."

I searched her eyes without understanding.

"He's a little..." She chose her words carefully. "Impulsive. But I think you can change that."

"I can?"

"Oh, yes. Anybody, even Benny, can change if they have the right person." She exhaled a cloud of smoke, her eyes warm. I wondered if I was Benny's right person, the person who could make him a better man. And maybe, he could make me better, too.

"And it doesn't hurt that he's very handsome," she grinned, and I smiled even more.

"Yes, he is," I agreed, picturing Benny's intoxicating eyes and beautiful, strong features. "And he's... he's so much kinder and... and _warmer_ than people think."

"And arrogant," she added on playfully.

"That too," I laughed. "Though honestly, I'm starting to find it charming."

"You two will be very happy together," she decided, grinning.

"Well, if he wants me like that."

"Are you kidding?" She leaned toward me, a smile playing on her lips. "Benny is attracted--no, _obsessed_ with genius. And you have both genius _and_ beauty. Of course he wants you; you are his dream woman." She places the cigarette between her lips, pulling away and shrugging. "I would know."

I felt something warm wash through me, like a warm, liquid joy. I touched her arm gently.

"Thank you, Cleo," I told her honestly. "I'm very glad to have met you."

She smiled, shrugging casually yet gracefully. "You must let me know if you are ever in Paris."

I grinned, dropping my cigarette and stepping on it with my shoe. I turned and opened the back door, my ears readjusting from the noise. I scooted past people and darkness to the bar, smiling as soon as I saw Benny. He was leaning over the bar, a chess board set up in front of him, explaining something to Mike. He had that focused face again, but his eyes were alive, his voice passionate. Maybe he _was_ the right person for me; my one, my only.

I stepped towards him, with that same magnetized, drawn in feeling. It was pure, unadulterated attraction; I felt it all over my body.

His eyes caught mine, and he smirked at me a bit, his eyes lighter.

"Hi," he greeted, leaning against the bar. "Did you two talk about me?"

I chuckled, "Yes."

I sat down next to him without another word, teasing him with my silence. He narrowed his eyes at me playfully, but didn't say anything else. I sipped my lager, glancing at the chess board.

"Is that your and Beth's game?" I recognized the position, Benny's threatening pawn in the center.

"Yeah, Mike likes puzzles. I was showing him the draw."

Mike was studying the board intensely, mouthing silently to himself.

"He hasn't figured it out yet," Benny smirked, "It's very fun to watch."

"Wait," he muttered, reaching for the rook. "Is it..." He placed the rook on the back rank and moved the king to g7. He played out the variation quickly, then smiled, satisfied. There is was, the perpetual check. 

"Damn," Mike scoffed, admiring the position. "That's brilliant."

"Isn't it?" Benny said proudly, looking at me. "Violet thought of it. Right after e5." My face hurt from smiling as I realized the U.S. Champion was showing me off. _Me._

"Game, Violet?" Mike asked me eagerly, gesturing to the chess board with his drink. I grinned, unable to resist.

"Of course."

*****

"You crushed him," Benny laughed, as we were walking back to his apartment, swinging my hand. "Loved the queen sacrifice."

I grinned, figuring he would mention that. "Well, I did get it from my favorite book."

He chuckled, squeezing my hand. Suddenly he furrowed his brows and touched his forehead.

"Do you feel raindrops?" He looked up at the angry, dark clouds, and I realized I hadn't been in the rain for years, not since the accident. We were never allowed to go outside in the rain at Methuen, something I missed especially after Beth left. When we were kids, Beth and I loved to play in the rain and the mud. It was our favorite thing to do together, and since the accident I missed it dearly.

The rain answered my calls--the drops poured onto us, soaking my hair and my clothes. I welcomed the water, releasing Benny's hand to stretch up my arms and embrace the rain. It gave me life.

"Violet!" Benny called me, and I opened my eyes to see his confused face. At my smile, he smiled back, laughing at my childish love of the water. I gazed into his eyes, intoxicated, grabbing his hands again without breaking eye contact. Our smiles fell and my heart rate picked up, feeling his warm hands in my cold ones. He was closer to me than before, the rim of his hat sheltering my face. The heat of his breath drew me closer, and I sank into him, pressing my lips to his.

It was easier than I'd thought it would be--and warmer, and wetter. His mouth was this beacon of warmth, his lips making my own tingle. He tasted like the scotch he was drinking, the power of it lingering on his tongue. He hugged my waist, his hand strong and reassuring. The rain poured down my back and soaked my clothes, but I didn't care. I touched his warm dry face with my cool damp hands, touching his cheek with my thumb. It was everything a first kiss should have been; it was pure, wonderful, intimate, warm. He kissed me with his entire body and I kissed him with mine. The roar of the rain was the soundtrack of the moment; I wanted to stay in it, soak in it, live in it, always.


	15. Violet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise!! ;)
> 
> -S

I shot up, gasping for breath, my lungs devoid of air. My mind raced, Beth's blurry image burned in my mind. I reached out for her the way I always did, only to feel the empty, unforgiving air.

Tears stung my eyes. The darkness was always so frightening right as I woke up, as I whimpered. Before my eyes adjusted, it was a terrifying, vacant, endless nothing.

"Benny?" I cried, choking on my words. "Benny?"

"Violet?" He called back, and I heard his footsteps hurry to the living room. He appeared as a dark figure in the doorway, finding me in the darkness. He stepped lightly to me, wrapping his arms tightly around my torso.

"It's okay," he told me soothingly, stroking my hair. "You're with me."

 _I'm with you, I'm with you,_ I repeated to myself, as I always did. My hands shook, anxiety pumping through my blood. I tried to catch my breath, but it got away from me.

He rubbed my back, gently massaging the knots behind my shoulders. Hot tears soaked my cheeks and I wiped them away, desperate to get ahold of myself. Even after the five or six nightmares I'd had since I'd gotten to Benny's, I still couldn't stand being so upset around him. I felt so weak, afraid, scarred, damaged. It was agonizing.

The sun rose gently, the periwinkle light of dawn flooding into the apartment. There were small windows by the ceiling that exposed the sidewalk, and, if I looked closely, patches of sky.

Benny made me some coffee, but my body felt too stiff and numb to drink it. I stared at the steam rising from the mug, swirling above the creamy coffee. Beth's voice rang in my ears.

"Violet?" Benny said, touching my back again. I moved as little as possible to turn and meet his eyes. "Vi, talk to me."

 _Vi._ My mother used to call me that. It sounded like a different name in Benny's mouth; a different girl.

I looked back at the coffee, teardrops filling my eyes again and swiftly falling on my hands. The warm tears splattered on my fingers.

"Violet, please," he practically begged, caressing my arm. I looked back at him and he gently wiped the streaks of tears off my face.

"I-I can't."

"Why?"

"It's too much, Benny."

"What is?"

" _This,_ " I exasperated, awakening. "Them. The nightmares. It's too much and I can't talk about it."

"Fine," he backed down, defeated. "Tell me something, then. It doesn't have to be that."

I furrowed my brows, searching his eyes. I didn't understand what he meant.

"What do you want to know?"

" _Anything,_ " he emphasized, which an almost desperate look in his eyes. "Anything about you, before I met you. I barely know anything about you, Violet, because you won't tell me."

"You know I don't--"

"Like to talk about it, I know," he finished, annoyed with me. "But things are different now, aren't they?" He hesitated, a vulnerable look in his eyes. "Aren't _we_ different now?"

We were. We had been since we kissed, since the two other kisses that happened after it. Yes, we were different... but I wasn't.

"Violet, _please,_ " he begged me, squeezing my hands with his own. I'd never seen him like this; there was something broken about him in this state of vulnerability, of pleading. "Something. Anything. Without it, aren't we just strangers?"

His words struck me like a blow. I forced out my next words, knowing I had to give him something real. I knew he deserved to know the whole story; but I hoped he'd settle for pieces of it.

"It's my birthday," I confessed, my heart hurting. He didn't seem to know what to say to that, and I couldn't bear to look at him anymore. I wished it wasn't so painful to tell him something real about me, to show him the weak, afraid, scarred, damaged girl I held inside.

"Today?"

"Today," I whispered, knowing my voice would crack if I raised my volume. "November 2nd."

He was quiet for a moment. I heard him sigh softly, heard him run his hands through his hair. He always did that when he wasn't sure what to do.

"Can I make you... something? Like... breakfast?"

"I think I'm just gonna get some air," I managed, unfolding my stiff legs and standing up. I shoved my feet in my nearby shoes.

"Are-are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?"

"That's okay," I declined, shrugging my overcoat onto my shoulders. I still couldn't look at him, unwilling to reveal anymore of the girl inside. "I'll be back in a bit."

I grabbed my keys and left before he could object. I inhaled the freezing air very deeply, relieved to be out of that room. I climbed the stairs up to the sidewalk, staring up at the brightening sky. I shoved my hands in my pockets, the fresh air filling my lungs. I felt my cigarette pack and lighter in my right pocket, pulling both out and lighting a cigarette.

The streets were waking up. There were some people going to work, students heading to school. I guessed it to be around eight in the morning.

I walked to the corner, wandering my way to Columbus Circle. I bought a coffee and sat, crosslegged, on a bench facing the circle. I watched the cars roll along Broadway, taxis stopping to let people out and in. Children in school uniforms hurried along the sidewalk, their hands clutched by their parents. Couples walked and talked, cars honked, sirens wailed.

I sipped my coffee and stared at them, at these busy New Yorkers. I wanted to be like them, to be like Benny. I wanted to have a real life here, a life I didn't have to build myself. I wanted to banish the girl inside; that broken girl.

But even then, in my hour of desperation, there was no banishing her. There was no hiding her, either--she was in everything I did, her words were in my mouth, her cries stifled in my throat. Those were her tears on my hands this morning, her voice calling for Benny. Without her, I was an empty shell; a lifeless, vacant creature. I couldn't banish who I was, or what happened to me. The best I could do was... talk about it. At least that way, I could try to accept her, try to forgive her for being so broken.

I walked back to Benny's, the midmorning sun warming my hair. I had let it grow past my shoulders, the bangs grown out to frame my face. I stepped on my cigarette outside his door, taking a deep breath. I had thought extensively about what I would tell Benny, what I was and wasn't ready for. I definitely couldn't talk about Beth, not yet, but I had to start somewhere, and not with something shallow like my birthday. Benny wanted the deep end, and maybe I did, too.

I opened the door, taking my key out of the lock. I gathered the courage to look up after I closed the door, not seeing Benny at first. I furrowed my brows, shrugging off my coat and looking left into the kitchen. Benny was hunched over the counter when he saw me, and my eyes widened at the sight. He was frosting a very misshapen, lumpy cake, purple frosting dotting his face and apron. He turned and smiled when he saw me, kissing my forehead gently.

"What's going on in here?"

"I made you a cake," he told me, trying to smile, his voice a bit tight. His cheeks were pink, and it warmed my heart to see him embarrassed over something like this. "Or, I tried to."

He turned it, showing me the full view. The lumpy cake was smothered in purple frosting, eighteen little white candles stuck randomly on the top. Tears filled my eyes as I gazed at it, the cake he made for me.

"I know it's a bit... ugly... I'm not very good at the decorating part, or the making it round part--"

"It's perfect. I love it," I interrupted, caressing his cheeks. He had flour on his forehead, and I gently brushed it away as I gazed into his pretty green eyes. "Thank you," I whispered, leaning in to kiss his lips softly. He pressed his warm hands into my back as he kissed me, a relaxed feeling rushing through my body.

"And it's purple!" I beamed, once we pulled away. I smiled at him as he chuckled a little, shrugging.

"It's violet," he grinned, proud of himself.

"Well, aren't you clever."

"Oh, yes," he agreed playfully, before his smile fell and he looked down at our hands, folded together. "Violet, I'm... I'm sorry I pushed you."

I sighed, running my fingers through his hair and tucking it behind his ears.

"It's okay," I assured him, a heavy weight in my chest. "I know... I know it's hard." It was hard for me, too.

"I don't want us to be strangers," he muttered quietly, not meeting my eyes. It struck me that Benny didn't like being vulnerable anymore than I did. "I want us to be able to... you know, talk about... the hard things."

"Me too," I said softly, knowing what he meant. I lifted his chin, needing to see his eyes, to be in that endless green.

"But I won't force you," he sighed, finally meeting my gaze. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I do want to," I told him earnestly, squeezing his hands. I raised his left hand and kissed the back of it before leading him back into the living room. I sat across from him on the couch, sighing deeply and gathering my courage. I faced him, still holding his hands.

"When I was eight years old," I started, taking deep, calming breaths, "I was in the car with my mom, and she drove me to my father's house. She... she looked at me in the backseat and she told me that when people usually say that something's for the best, it's actually for the worst but then she said that... that time, it was true. She got out to talk to my father, to beg him to take me off her hands, that she needed his help. That she couldn't take care of me." I felt tears sting my eyes again, but I tried to push them away. I took some more deep breaths before continuing. "He said no. That it was too late, he hadn't seen us in years. He had a... a new family. A wife and a son. I saw them." Benny squeezed my hands, and I managed to meet his eyes. "He sent us away. At the time, I didn't know it was my father, so when I asked her who it was she told me it was a mistake, a... a rounding error. A problem she had to solve. And when I asked her, 'What problem?' She said..." I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing out the words. "'What I do with you.'" I took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the words in the air. Only two living people knew they had even been uttered--well, three.

"She... she told me to close my eyes," I said tearfully, hearing her voice in my head as clearly as my own. "And then she sped our car into a truck." I looked up at him, his image blurry from my tears. He was listening, but it was obvious he was not at all prepared to hear that. "She died instantly, and I didn't. A piece of glass went through my cheek, but besides that, I was fine. And a couple times a month, especially in the summer, I relive the accident. And if I go back to sleep, I have it again. I always wake up screaming, trying not to lose consciousness and... and-and die. I thought I was going to die, Benny."

"Oh Violet," he sighed, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry." I squeezed my eyes shut and he pulled me into his arms, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. I sniffled and sobbed, exposing the broken girl inside me; the broken girl I was. And, more than anything, I felt an intense, euphoric relief. I opened up, and it was okay--I didn't collapse, I didn't implode. Yes, it hurt, but the pain was bearable, I could take it. I didn't have to carry the enormous weight of that memory anymore; I didn't have to hide.


	16. Violet

I ran my fingertip lightly across the bumpy crown of the jade queen, down her smooth spine to the edge of the board. I bit my lip as I remembered the night Benny gave me that board, the jade and ivory pieces glimmering in the light. For my birthday, he presented this board to me, smiling proudly as I eagerly opened the heavy package.

Of course, it brought tears to my eyes. The beautiful chess set must have been expensive, and I almost wanted to refuse. But I couldn’t say no to Benny’s happy eyes, so his whispered _Happy birthday_ against my smiling lips was all the more meaningful. It warmed my heart like a bonfire, and I couldn’t resist embracing him. It astounded and moved me to realize how much he cared; I wondered what I did to deserve being loved by him.

I heard his voice in the bedroom, quieter on the other side of the door. Benny had friends from all over—it wasn’t unusual to hear him talking to them on the phone.

I followed the moves from the book, humming to myself. I noticed I hadn't heard Benny's voice in a while, and when he finally spoke (very muffled), he said my name, then a couple other unintelligible words. It wasn't unheard of for him to talk about me, but the way he said it seemed... off. Just before he hung up, I made out: "Bye, Townes."

 _Townes_... I didn't recognize that name. Before I could think about it, the door opened, and Benny came out and made his way over to me from the bedroom. I watched his focused eyes as he sat down across from me, his gaze intense. There was something in his face I couldn't make out, an emotion I hadn't heard of, a mask I'd never seen.

"Play me." There it was again; not a request, not a demand.

I wasn't sure; part of me wanted to dig into his state of mind, to know what he was thinking. There was something in his voice I couldn't make out, either.

I nervously set the board back up, moving the jade pieces back to their homes. I looked up at him, behind the ivory figures, waiting for him to start. He was quiet for a moment, looking at his front row center pawns. That little line in his brow poked out, the line that I loved.

We played in silence. His moves seemed strangely calculated, like he had planned them ahead of time. I saw through his plans, making them out in my mind, thinking of ways to thwart them. I always found one, and each time he would run his hand through his hair, frustrated, jaw tight. The advantage bounced back and forth between us, but finally, I tied all his pieces up, my unforgiving bishop defeating the ivory king.

I looked up at Benny, but he was just glaring at the pieces, like they had betrayed him.

"Benny," my voice quavered, "who was that on the phone?"

He just stared at the pieces, like he didn't hear me.

"Benny," I said, anxiety gripping my stomach.

"You should have told me," he murmured, finally meeting my eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"About what?" I cried, desperate.

"About _Beth_!" He shouted, making me flinch. I stared at him, stunned. My mind raced, my heart stopped. "Why didn't you tell me about Beth?"

"I-I didn't... I didn't m-mean--" My voice cracked, my ability to speak evaporated. He just glared at me, disappointed by my empty answer.

"You're missing, you know. _Missing._ "

"Yes, I know," I insisted, recovering. I had never seen him this angry. "I ran away."

"You've been on the front page!" He retaliated, gripping his fists. "There are people _looking_ for you--"

" _Nobody_ is looking for me," I snapped, suddenly angry. He was so fucking clueless.

"Not according to the newspaper, Violet _Harmon_ ," he retorted sharply. "That was my friend Townes on the phone. He writes for the Lexington Herald Leader. That orphanage thinks you're dead, you know. They think you offed yourself."

It stung how casually he could throw that topic in my face, especially since he knew about the accident. I couldn't find my voice.

"Doesn't that bother you?" He scoffed, incredulous.

"Honestly, no," I admitted, "I was trapped there. I had to leave."

"To Las Vegas? To Beth?" He chided, clearly confused by my choices.

"Yes," I sighed, feeling tears in my eyes. "What's so wrong with that, Benny? She was my sister."

" _Is_ your sister," he corrected me, scowling. "You told me you didn't have any family."

"I don't. I didn't lie."

"The _hell_ you didn't lie!" He accused, standing and raising his voice. I rolled my eyes, standing to meet his angry gaze.

"You don't know everything, you know," I spat, frustrated by his ignorance. He wasn't even trying to understand; he was just projecting his anger and confusion onto me.

He laughed humorlessly, his voice empty.

"That's my fucking _point_ , Violet," he said airily. "I don't know _anything_ because you refuse to tell me."

"Because it's painful, Benny!" I exasperated, feeling weak. "It's painful to tell you those things."

He searched my eyes, but his were cold.

"I wish you would just trust me."

"Oh my god," I groaned, infuriated again, "You're not listening! You don't know what happened!"

"What I know is that you will always shut me out," he scowled, his eyes hurt. In a way, I couldn't have argued with that, because deep inside, I knew it was true.

I closed my eyes, letting my tears fall. I heard him move from across from me, his footsteps loud in the living room and kitchen. I stared at the brick wall as I heard the front door open; I jumped when it slammed shut.

I tried to catch my breath, my chest aching. I sunk to the floor, hugging my knees and sobbing. I couldn't breathe; I whimpered, I wanted to hit myself.

"Fuck," I cursed softly, "fuck, fuck, fuck..."

 _I ruined it,_ I thought, feeling shattered. Whatever it was that we had, I ruined it. I was going to lose Benny, lose my place to live, lose the only good I had. I hated myself.

I stood somehow, wandering my way to the kitchen. I grabbed my jacket on the kitchen counter and shook it, freeing my cigarettes and lighter from my pockets. They clattered to the ground and I kneeled to pick them up and light one. I inhaled a shaky breath of the drug, finding the strength to stand and sit at the counter.

I stared at the garnet, smelling the smoke. I could just barely see my reflection on the surface of the stone, the glow of the cigarette. Without looking away, I reached under the counter to the shelf beneath it, where Benny kept the booze. I pulled up the first bottle I felt, which turned out to be a bottle of bourbon. Satisfied, I filled a glass with ice and poured the liquor into it generously.

The bourbon was too strong, but I drank it anyway. It was oddly sweet, oddly clean like vodka. I didn't like it, but I didn't care.

I puffed on my cigarette, tapping my ash on the counter carelessly. Benny didn't like it when I smoked in here, but he was gone, so what did he care?

I stared at the kitchen, at the blank wall on the other side of it. I imagined what it might look like for the bourbon glass to shatter against it, to hear the explosion and smash.

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. I smoked the cigarette, and another, and another. I smoked until my lungs felt dirty, until my heart raced from the nicotine. My head felt heavy and cloudy from the many glasses of bourbon I had, my tongue cold from the ice. I wondered what I looked like in the mirror; probably empty, tired, broken.

"Does everyone always leave?" I wondered aloud, my words slurred. I thought about Benny, about our tender kisses, about our nights together cooking and playing chess. I thought about how he stayed up with me when I had nightmares, when he showed me off to his friends. When he offered to let me live with him, when he kissed me for the first time in the rain. I didn't want to be without him; I prayed he didn't hate me now.

I closed my eyes, throwing my cigarette in the sink. I leaned my head against my upper arm, exhausted. It had been hours since Benny left; he wasn't coming back tonight, and it was pushing two in the morning. I rested my eyes, trying to clear my mind. I felt heavy, and I sank into the quiet darkness ahead.

The door slamming jolted me awake, my stiff, tired body springing to life. I shot open my eyes, looking around, and there he was again. In the hallway, his back was to me, pulling off his jacket. I looked at the windows; dawn was breaking. He didn't acknowledge me, he just walked right back over to the jade and ivory chess set, sitting at the green side. He started to set the board back up, and I stumbled over to him, rubbing my eyes. My mouth tasted awful, my mind heavy.

I sat at the ivory side, fighting a yawn. I couldn't say no to a game; he must have known that, but I didn't want to play. Momentarily, Benny reminded me of Mr. Shaibel; chess was their voice, their way to cope with the hard things in the world.

I moved my pawn, starting the game, trying to get a good look of his face. He looked tired; there were purple bags under his eyes. We played quietly, his moves less calculated and more improvisational. I ignored my instinct to take apart his defense, letting him take my pieces and setting up careless traps. When he put me in checkmate, he sighed angrily.

"You let me win," he said gruffly. "You know I hate that."

"Sorry," I said airily. I didn't regret it, and on the next game I did it again. I was too tired, too defeated to even try.

"You let me _win_!" He repeated, annoyed with me.

"I don't want to play chess. I want to talk."

"You wanna talk? Fine, let's talk," he said sharply. "I knew there was more to you than you let on, something big. I can handle you keeping secrets, but this--this is _too_ big. This is too much."

"I was going to tell you," I insisted, exhausted. "I had to, she'll be at the Championship. I knew I needed to, it's just... you know it's hard for me to talk about my family."

"I wish I had figured it out," he sighed, still angry.

"Why didn't you?"

"You two are just so different," he admitted, his brow furrowed. "Your play is completely different than hers. You don't even look that similar, except for the hair, I guess, but you had bangs and she didn't, I don't know. You're the one I liked, Violet. I didn't think about it."

"You know, Benny," I sighed, looking in his eyes, "if I went missing, really missing, the only person that would look for me is you. Beth doesn't care about me. She didn't come back for me when she got adopted and she didn't even write to me, ever. I bet right now she even knows I'm missing, but what is she doing about it? She cares more about chess and fame than she ever will about me. And I didn't tell you about it because I'm ashamed to be abandoned, to be left behind by my only family." I took a shaky breath, holding back my tears. "All of them abandoned me. All of them, one right after the other. Can't you understand why I didn't want you to know that?" He took my hand in his warm one, and I opened my eyes to see his concerned expression. The line in his forehead poked out.

"I'll never do that to you," he promised, pushing a strand of hair out of my face. I wanted to believe him.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I sighed, squeezing his hands.

"I'm sorry I left." He pushed my hair to behind my shoulder, lightly touching my shoulder. "You're going to win, you know. In Ohio."

"I'm going to try," I told him tearfully, taking a free breath. "I'll have to play Beth."

"You'll have to play _me_ ," he said playfully, making me smile. "You better watch out, Violet Harmon."

"Oh, I'll be ready," I grinned, and he kissed my hand. "Benny... why did you come back tonight?"

He gazed at me, his eyes warm.

"Because I love you," he answered. "And when you're in pain, I'm in pain."

I sighed, my heart warm, butterflies in my stomach.

"I love you too," I confessed, touching his cheek. He kissed me gently, touching my shoulder lightly again. I pictured us years from now, older and wiser and together. I pictured myself, open and honest, walls down; a person I could be, that Benny could help me be.


	17. Beth

I fought for breath, the smell and taste of the whiskey overwhelming my senses and destabilizing my balance. My headache pulsed, sending waves of ache throughout my body. I coughed, feeling tears sting my eyes, heating my face. I gripped the sides of the counter, steadying my breathing, ignoring the pit of festering guilt in my gut. It stretched my stomach into a bottomless drop.

I didn't want to be there without Mother. This was my first tournament without her, my first hotel room alone. I took one look around that room before I needed a drink, thinking of how sad it was that I was here and she wasn't; of how lonely I was. If my days with Beltik taught me anything, it was that I not only couldn't stand being alone, but I also couldn't stand to let anyone in, either.

I didn't usually drink in the morning, especially not so soon after I woke up, but I needed it to get through today; I needed it to beat Benny. 

I took a deep breath, bathing in the pale morning light. It was springtime, finally; winter had lasted forever, but 1966 melted into history. Honestly though, I wasn't looking forward to this year much, anyway. At least Violet didn't have to see me this way.

I adjusted my clothes, forcing myself to look in the mirror. I took deep breaths until the eyes I stared into were blank and empty. I had to focus today; I couldn't think about Violet, about the things I did to her. About what she did to herself.

Well, _probably_ did. Nobody had found her body, nobody even saw her leave. There was still no word about what happened, but as her sister, I knew about how similar Violet was to our mom. Since the crash, Violet's nightmares and anxieties plagued her life and invaded her spirit, and the same thing led our mom to her death. It made me sick to think of Violet that way--sad, tearful, anxious, traumatized Violet, the person she thought I didn't see. It was only a matter of time before she was overwhelmed by her emotions. And how strange it was to think of how the crash changed us in radically different ways: Violet with her PTSD and me with... well, pills and booze.

I opened the door to the room, stepping into the elevator and moving down. I shook of my thoughts of Violet, trying not let her get ahold of me today. I had to focus on chess, on beating Benny. I probably wouldn't play him until tomorrow, but today I had to be confident. I couldn't let his smugness get to me; I couldn't let anyone get to me.

I stepped out of the elevator and into the auditorium. I looked out onto the tables and their chess boards, listening to the hum of the visitors and players. I searched for Benny in the crowd, spotting his signature hat 10 feet away. Beside him was a blur of red hair, a girl--

"Violet," I choked, staring intently at her face. There she was, not dead, but quite the opposite. She was glowing with life, laughing at something Benny said, chatting up other players. She was beautiful, her hair long and flowing at her side, her bangs gone. She looked like our mother--strikingly so. She was smiling... God, I hadn't seen her smile like that in years.

I stared at her, dumbstruck, flattened. My head spun, my thoughts slamming into each other chaotically. I felt faint, nauseous and horrified, the alcohol swimming in my stomach and threatening to come up. I had no idea what to say to her, or even where to start.

Her eyes met mine, eyes I hadn't seen in years. They were walking towards me with serious expressions, growing larger. My head spun, my grip on reality fading.

"Hi, Beth," she said, her voice empty, eyes shining. I still had no idea what to say; I was too distracted looking at how her scar had faded slightly, a bit sunken into her face.

"Violet," I said again, trying to make sense of all of this. She wasn't dead? Of course, there was a part of me that wondered if she was alive, what kind of life she might be living. But then I always thought of our mother, of her tear-stained cheeks--that sad look in her eyes, a look I saw in Violet.

Time was passing torturously slow--I had to think of something else to say.

"Are you playing?" I asked, my voice rough. I glanced at Benny, at his hand on Violet's shoulder. _Wait, are they... involved?_

"Am I playing?" Violet repeated back to me, scoffing. Whatever warmth she had in her voice was gone. "That's the first thing you want to know? If I'm a threat to you?"

"No--that's not what I--what I meant..." My words failed me. My cheeks warmed with humiliation, and I fervently wished this was a dream, some drunken hallucination. Maybe it was; maybe I really was losing my grip on reality.

"Wow," she sighed, her voice edged with disappointment. "I'm literally standing in front of you and you still have nothing to say to me. Oddly enough, that's exactly what I expected." Suddenly her eyes were so hateful, so furious--it was a look I'd never seen before on her face, one I never could've anticipated.

"Good luck today," she told me, right as she stepped away, that furious look making her unrecognizable. I saw no Violet, no Alice Harmon; only pure, raging hatred. "You'll need it."


	18. Violet

The murmur of the room relaxed me somehow, taking some of the intimidation out of the tournament. I was nervous, so nervous I became nauseous. My heart was beating rapidly, but hearing the chatter and conversation of the audience and players made things better. We were strangers, gathered together for no reason other than the love and pursuit of chess.

I tried not to think of Beth, but I couldn't help it, not even a little. She was everywhere I looked yet nowhere.

Benny tried to take my mind off of it, introducing me to all of his friends. Benny knew everybody, especially the highest rated players. They were all fond of him, charmed by him, like I was. He had a way with people, of making them feel special.

His hand was on my lower back, warming me. I was listening to one of the players' anecdotes, smiling as I realized I had found people who were, in their passion, just like me. I'd only felt that way with Benny and--

"Beth," Benny breathed, his eyes focused on something past my shoulder. I looked into his staring eyes, finding the strength to turn and look his way.

And there she was, just as I remembered her at the Open, except for her stunned eyes and frozen body. She was elegantly styled, from her expensive clothes to her haircut to her lipstick. She was Beth Harmon, chess champion; not Beth, my sister. It sickened me not to recognize her as my own flesh and blood. I was standing 10 feet away, but I'd never felt more far from her.

I gave Benny a look, unsure if I was ready for this. He gently pushed me forward with his hand on my back, in his own little way of telling me to go talk to her.

Talk to her. Talk about what? About how she abandoned me to be a celebrity, about how she threw me away like trash? My cheeks were warming fast, my fists clenched as I stepped towards her, meeting her frozen eyes. At least they were still that same, expressive brown, that strong oaky color; at least I could count on that.

"Hi, Beth," I monotoned, the first words I'd said to her in three years. I could feel Benny's hand on my shoulder, his assuring me that he was there for me. I could count on that, too.

"Violet," she breathed, starting to gain movement again. Her lips were just so slightly parted, decorated with a tasteful red lipstick. She started to blink again, still massively shocked. Did she really not expect to ever see me again? Did she not think I would look for her, that I would seek her out? Every moment she said nothing infuriated me even more, stoking the already-agitated fire within me.

"Are you playing?" She quavered, her voice completely unrecognizable. Her words sunk into me and hung in the air; I wanted to scream in her face. She was such a fucking stranger.

"Am I playing?" I repeated back to her, incredulous. "That's the first thing you want to know? If I'm a threat to you?"

"No--that's not what I--what I meant..." She sputtered, blinking and seemingly trying to regain focus. I thought of my former self, months ago, desperate to get to Beth. To get to _this_.

"Wow," I sighed, painful disappointment weighing down my chest. "I'm literally standing in front of you and you still have nothing to say to me." I felt Benny rub his thumb on my shoulder and I remembered he was there for me. Benny would always be there for me and Beth would never be. "Oddly enough, that's exactly what I expected."

I stared into her eyes, relaxing my face and letting my emotions get the better of me. I didn't try to hold it back; I let it in and let it wash through me. But simultaneously, I couldn't bear to look at her, to look into her empty eyes and see a stranger. I turned away, gasping for breath, stepping away from her. I glimpsed the chess tables on the stage, inspired--I turned back, locked her eyes in mine.

"Good luck today," I added on, my voice edged with fire. "You'll need it."

*****

"I'm tired," I sighed, my eyes heavy. Benny nodded, understanding. "I'm gonna go back to the room. We can meet up for dinner later?"

"Sure," he agreed, affectionately touching my shoulder. It had been a long first day, but thankfully, I'd won all my games. Beth did too. "I'll walk you out."

I nodded, taking his hand in mine. I tried not to look at Beth as I walked to the door, staring at my shoes. When I made it to the doorway, I couldn't help myself anymore. I turned back, searching for Beth's fiery hair on the stage. She was standing over my last game of the day, analyzing the position, her body and eyes very still.

"Look at her," I scoffed, gesturing her way. Benny turned his gaze to her, his pretty eyes shining. "I told you she doesn't care about me. All she cares about is winning. Why else would she be over there analyzing my game?"

He looked down, sighing a little. He didn't seem to know what to say to me, which was odd to me considering the position he'd taken about my relationship with Beth. He wanted me to get to know her, to talk to her, that it would be worth it because she had to care about me. In the weeks leading up to the tournament, I wanted to believe him, and a part of me did, the part that chased her across the country.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe you're right about her."

And that was what I thought I wanted to hear. I had been frustrated that he didn't seem to understand the depth of Beth's betrayal, of her absence of remorse and guilt. I wanted him to concede, to tell me I was right, thinking that it would make me feel better about all of this. But it didn't; I only felt worse having lost the last bit of hope I had for Beth, and for our sisterhood. A hopeless feeling crept into my heart and made a home.


	19. Beth

The sun was shining brightly in my eyes. I caught my breath, my last game whizzing through my mind. I opened my sunglasses and slipped them on, taking deep breaths. I had to be calm, composed, confident--I couldn't let anyone, especially Violet or Benny, see me in a state of weakness. Not after my embarrassing encounter with my estranged sister three days ago--I still cringed to think about it.

In the first two days of the tournament, me, Benny, and Violet were all undefeated. When they left together after the games, I always studied their positions, desperate to find a weakness in their play. There weren't any.

It was indescribably weird to not see my sister for three years then have her show up in the world of chess, my world. While there were no press at this tournament, Violet astounded her opponents and toppled them, but not aggressively. She developed her games slowly, as if to cherish her moves. To me, it was a waste of time, but everyone quickly became enamored by her.

She hadn't spoken to me since the first day of the tournament. Every time I even thought about approaching her, I felt sick to my stomach with anxiety, remembering that hateful look in her eyes. I didn't think there was anything I could do to change how she felt, to change what I did. And I couldn't help but feel almost... angry, almost furious that she just showed up in my life and threatened to take away my championship. That was wrong of her, right? How could she do that to me?

I shook her from my thoughts, taking another deep breath of the fresh air. I walked down the pathway, trying to keep up my composure when I heard a familiar voice.

"Now most players, they lack the courage in their convictions. The key is not to be tentative. You have to play with absolute confidence. You know, I can tell on the first move whether someone's got that or they don't, just from how they move that first piece."

I rolled my eyes, turning my head to listen. Benny was exactly as arrogant as I remembered him.

"What advice would you give to any young chess players who want to follow in your footsteps?" Asked a youthful teenager with a notepad, hanging on to Benny's every word.

"I'd tell them to read my book, obviously," Benny said thoughtfully, "yeah, play through all the games. You know, I'd tell them to get in shape. Most people, when they think about chess players, they think about people who look like you."

I couldn't listen any more to Benny's ramblings--I turned and started to walk away, chuckling to myself. _Poor kid._

"Harmon!" Benny called. "Wait up!"

_Oh, god._

I didn't stop walking, unwilling to talk to him about pretty much anything. He caught up to me anyway, adjusting his hat.

"Found you a reporter, I see," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and without emotion. I kept a sly, confident smile on my lips, refusing to let him see through me.

"Funny, ha," he laughed sarcastically, making me chuckle. "So what did you do to that poor guy you played in the third round? He looked like he wanted to kill himself."

"Uh, which poor guy are you talking about?" I fired back, priding myself in how expertly I could push down my emotions.

"Touché," he shrugged. "Hey, uh, some of us have been heading down to the student union, having a couple beers, playing some speed chess. You should join us, tomorrow night."

 _Will Violet be there?_ I wanted to ask. I wondered why Benny hadn't even brought her up, but I certainly wasn't going to.

"No thanks," I declined. "I have to study. Thought I'd go back to the dorms, read your book. You know, get in shape."

"You do realize there are two more tournament days left?"

I smiled a little, turning to him and cocking my head. I gave him a look and didn't reply. I noticed they were a very intense dark green.

"See ya, Harmon," he said. My cheeks felt warm. "Study hard."

I nodded, turning away, catching my breath. I looked ahead to the building I was walking to when I heard him call me.

"Oh, and Harmon--" he stopped me, making me look back. "You have to talk to her sometime. I know she wants you to."

My heart sank; and there it was. I wanted to walk away, to not even entertain him with this. I couldn't show weakness.

"So what are you, her messenger?" It came out harsher than I intended.

He narrowed his eyes, lips pursed.

"Tell her to talk to me herself," I said blankly, finally turning away. I couldn't have looked into his eyes anymore; it would have shattered me.

*****

I stared intensely at Benny's knight, tucked between pawns. My heart was racing; I was two moves away from checkmate. I glanced up at him, trying to appear unaltered. He was staring at the knight too; I was holding my breath.

He took my rook, as I intended, pressing the button on the clock. I savored the sweet, sweet air as I slid my pawn forward into checkmate.

I was elated. It was better than any high I'd ever had, better than any feeling I could imagine. Benny shook my hand, eyebrows just barely raised in an impressed expression. I did it--I beat Benny. After all my hard work, I finally won.

I grinned, hearing applause around me. I looked up at the audience, smiling hard, when my eyes caught hers. Violet was standing in the front of the crowd, arms crossed. She was looking at me, her eyes hard, unsmiling. Her long red hair shone in the light, starkly contrasting her long-sleeved black top and faded blue jeans. God, she looked just like Mom; and I was terrified of her. Before I had played Benny, Benny played her--and he was bested, which I couldn't have predicted. I had watched in horror as I realized Violet was even better than Benny, better than the only opponent I'd ever had that beat me. And she was a _lot_ better, too--not in technique, but in strategy. Her play seemed passive at first, and as soon as Benny felt like he had the advantage, she moved on him so fast with carefully crafted positions that even he couldn't have anticipated. I had no idea how I was going to beat her, and I had to play her in five minutes.

I looked at the blackboard in the middle of the stage, which was behind the center table. Written in careful writing read _E. Harmon vs. V. Harmon_. The sight of the board made me sick to my stomach, my elated feeling gone. I was going to lose--again.

Panic moved through me. I had been so focused on breaking down Benny's play I hadn't even had time to study for my game with Violet, not knowing how good she really was. Analyzing a couple of her positions was one thing--playing her was something else entirely, and I had no idea what to do.

Uneasy, I clenched my fists, trying to breath steadily. I turned in my sheet from my game with Benny and got my new one, writing in Violet's name. I held in my tears, not allowing myself to crack. If she saw me crack, she would take me down faster than any of her opponents so far. I had to at least put up a fight.

I swallowed as I sat down at the white side of the board, the audience starting to gather around our table. I stared at the black pieces, at the unforgiving Queen.

Violet's hand appeared on the back of the chair, pulling it out and sitting carefully. I gathered the courage to look into her eyes, expecting that same hateful look. Instead, it was worse--they weren't hateful or angry. They were the warmest I had seen them since I left her, and she had that same mischievous glint in her eyes that I remembered from our childhood. The Violet I knew was in there, the Violet that loved me.

I almost lost my balance. Seeing her like this, like the Violet that was my sister, was somehow much, much worse than her hating me.

 _She's doing it on purpose,_ I thought, my fists still clenched. _She's trying to throw me off._

I wouldn't let her. I straightened my back, holding my head high, my eyes hard. She kept her gaze on me as she started the clock.


	20. Violet

I shot the bourbon, trying to ignore the violent burn and not gag. My fingers clutched the shot glass, squeezing the cigarette between my index and middle fingers. The smoke stung my eyes as I gulped the bourbon down, opening my bleary eyelids to gaze at Benny's laughing, bright smile.

We set down the glasses we had just clinked moments ago on the table, at either side of our chess board. He gave me a wide grin, smiling in that goofy way he always did when he got drunk.

It was nice to get out of our hotel room, to get away from our endless stacks of chess books and dedicated study. Earlier that day, Beth and I adjourned our game on the brink of the endgame, leaving me another whole day to anxiously anticipate facing her again. When Beth called for the adjournment, her voice slightly shaking and rum on her breath, the tension in the room was palpable. Beth never called for adjournment (neither did I, really), but even I was exhausted too after our three hours playing. Still, I was winning, and everyone knew it. The other players whispered their pity for Beth to each other as I awkwardly refused to meet anyone's eyes. All they knew was that Beth and I were sisters quarreling and that I was Benny's girlfriend. It wasn't much to go on, but it made for drama on the reality show scale given how good Beth and I both were. It was, at best, uncomfortable.

Benny sought to take my mind off of it and brought me to the student union with his friends, the other players. It had been a blast--I'd beaten all of them again at speed chess and was reveling in the high of being the best. While it wasn't my goal to be a winner, it was nice to be.

At least until my eyes caught the perfectly styled fire-red haircut and my heart burned. She was ineffectively cowering behind two men, her hair uncovered. I thought of how reversed our roles were--nine months ago I was hiding behind strangers and watching her game, and as Benny and I played again, she was doing the same. Except this time, she was the last person I wanted to see.

It didn't take long for someone else to see her. "Harmon!" Noticed David, standing three feet from Beth. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat as the men in front of her moved, all eyes glancing uneasily between the two of us. I didn't look at Beth, and looked at Benny instead. He raised his eyebrows suggestively, clearly wanting me to talk to her again. God, I was so sick of him telling me to talk to her. We both knew there was no room in my heart for forgiveness; well, I knew.

"You playing?" David asked, gesturing to the speed chess board. Out of the corner of my eye, Beth's red hair shook.

"No--just, um, observing."

"Of course not," I scoffed under my breath, setting the board back up. It took me a second to realize I said that out loud, before deciding not to care. Hopefully it would make her leave.

"And why not?" Beth scowled, and I turned to glare at her.

"Because you hate to lose," I spat, my voice sly. She was practically fuming.

"Actually, I _am_ playing," she snapped, her fists clenched at the side of her expensive evening dress.

"Great," I breathed sarcastically, my voice sharp. Benny awkwardly moved out of his chair and to my side, touching my shoulder gently. Beth, rigid, sat across of me, her legs crossed. Her lips were pursed, her face flushed. It had been a long time since I'd ever seen her this angry--all it did was infuriate me even more. She didn't get to be angry.

Our game was done in five minutes, my mind thick with adrenaline and still high on winning. Her game was flawed, unfocused--she was doubting herself, I could see it in her eyes. I wished I didn't still notice things like that.

"Another?" I asked, my jaw clenched. She glared at me, her eyes hateful. She responded by restarting our clock.

We played five more times. Beth improved towards the end, but ultimately, she furiously squeezed her fists, took a shaky breath, and left the table, heading for the exit. It was fun to beat her, but guilt flowered in my chest. I looked up at Benny, who gave me a look.

 _Go after her,_ his eyes shouted, making me roll my own.

 _Fine,_ I groaned internally, getting up myself. I chased Beth through the cafeteria and out into the warm night.

"Beth!" I shouted, catching my breath and watching her stop, her back to me. The florescent light of the building made her glow faintly, in a strange, sad way. She whipped around, tears in her eyes, her face pink, her lip shaking with fury.

"Why do you have to be better than me?" She demanded to know, her voice cracking. Stunned at her outburst, I froze.

"What are you talking about?"

"All I _have_ is _chess!_ " She cried, breathing unevenly. "I don't have anything or anyone else. I can't even rely on my own sister."

"Don't you pull that victim shit with me," I spat furiously, remembering my pain. "The only reason you don't have anyone is because you _designed_ it that way. _You_ left _me_."

"Fuck you!" She snapped, her tears shining on her cheeks. "You can't just walk into my life and fuck everything up, everything I've worked for. Why couldn't you have just stayed missing?!"

I stared at her, not believing she could say something like that. I knew she didn't love me, didn't care--but I never thought she could so cruelly, so openly admit that I was nothing more than a heavy burden weighing her down.

After a moment, she seemed to hear herself, to register her brutal words. Her face cleared and she sighed shamefully, looking down.

"Violet, I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice soft. And it didn't matter; I turned and walked as fast as I could away from her, towards the hotel. I barely registered going into the building, and finally recognized my surroundings in the elevator. Beth's words echoed in my head, her furious tears.

I took a long, hot shower in my room, letting myself cry as the steaming water soaked my skin. It was a stabbing, aching pain, the kind of wound I felt everywhere. And the worst part was that I didn't think my anguish could get any worse, but it did. It tripled, and it stung to realize the hold Beth still had on me.

I shut off the water, wrapping my exhausted body in a fluffy robe. I found the strength to look in the mirror, into the eyes that were so close to Beth's. My cheeks were a faded pink, splotchy from crying. I looked how I felt inside--broken, sad, and unloved.

Benny was laying on our bed when I came out of the shower. He looked up at me from his book and didn't bother to ask how my talk with Beth went--he could see it on my face. I silently put on a pair of underwear and one of Benny's shirts to sleep in, shutting off the lights and crawling under the cool sheets. He held me close, pressing his warm stomach into my back and wrapping an arm around me. I breathed shakily, looking into the darkness, trying not to cry more. I stared at a sliver of moonlight on the floor, peeking out from behind a curtain.

"They say she's a drunk," Benny muttered, his voice soft. "And her mom died in Mexico City. I heard she kicked it during Beth's game with Borgov." Benny had told me all about Borgov--even I felt uneasy when thinking about playing him. I wondered what that must have been like for Beth, to lose to the world champion while her mother was dying. I didn't know about her mom.

I did figure she was a drunk, though, from smelling the alcohol on her breath during our game. I tried not to pity her, especially after what happened that night, but a part of me couldn't help it.

"She said I walked into her life and fucked everything up," I whispered, my voice shaking, cracked, and dry. "She asked me why I couldn't have stayed missing."

He was silent for a while. He rubbed my arms, kissed the back of my neck.

"I love you," he sighed into my shoulder, running his fingertips down my arm. "And I know she loves you too."

I sighed, frustrated. _This again?_

"How do you know?"

"Because she pushes you away," he explained, his voice still soft. "If she didn't love you, she wouldn't bother."

"What about tomorrow?" I sighed, my voice breaking as tears filled my eyes again. "She's going to hate me if I win."

"I don't think she's capable of hating you, Vi," he told me, stroking my hair. Maybe he was right--I wanted to believe that he was, that there was some sort of hope for our sisterhood. But I couldn't bring myself to admit it as a possibility when Beth's livid, loathing eyes flashed across my mind.

_Why couldn't you have just stayed missing?!_


	21. Beth

The park was surprisingly peaceful and put me at ease. The fresh air was relaxing, my anxieties momentarily whisked away in the breeze. I watched the students of the college--couples talking, friends laughing, all unaware of how lucky they all were. I wondered what it was like to go to college, to have a real education, real friends at my side.

I sighed, remembering the humiliation that awaited me today. My game with Violet would recommence at 2pm, one hour from now. I had one hour until Violet would viciously slaughter me and be declared the new U.S. Champion, taking everything I wanted right from my hands. I had, to a point, come to terms with the fact I was going to lose; I somewhat regretted calling for an adjournment, as it just prolonged what I knew was true: she was better than me, and she always had been.

Someone touched my arm leaning on the bench, making me lose my train of thought. I looked up to see Benny, in his usual black attire, unsmiling.

"Hey," he said, his voice empty. It didn't feel good to see him; I knew he would just lecture and shame me for what I said to Violet.

"Hi," I breathed, crossing my arms and looking away as he sat down next to me. Guilt pounded down my stomach; I didn't want to hear this.

"Why do you have to be such a dick to your sister?" He asked me, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking out at the quad. I rolled my eyes, unwilling to engage with him.

"Stay out of it, Benny."

"I can't stay out of it," he told me firmly, like it was obvious. "Not when you talk to her like that."

"I didn't mean what I said," I muttered quietly, unable to hold it in. I didn't want to talk to her again, but I really, really wished she knew how much I didn't mean what I said. I was drunk and angry; I believed it then, but not after how sad she looked when I said it. And it really was such a fucked up thing to say.

" _I_ know that," he replied, again like it was obvious, "but she doesn't."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes again. He always had to act like he knew everything.

"Whose side are you on?"

"There are no sides, Beth," he told me resolutely. Fuck, it was annoying. Of course there were sides.

"Yes, there are," I insisted, only for him to shake his head.

"No, there aren't," he maintained. He sighed, looking at his folded hands. "Look, I don't want to fight you too."

"Too?" I wondered aloud, before realizing how much I really didn't want to know the status of their relationship. It was so weird to think about them together.

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair.

"I... told her this morning that I invited you to the union last night, and she wasn't very happy about it," he admitted, leaning back on the bench. He had this sad, frustrated expression, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes another time.

"Did you think she would be?" I scoffed.

"I don't know, I--I didn't think it was going to go like _that_. I guess I thought she would want to talk to you." Benny really was barely confrontational; clearly he didn't know how to talk about what happened. I wondered if he was in love with her, before realizing the thought made me feel sick.

"Why would you think that?"

He ran a hand through his hair again. "I really shouldn't tell you."

" _Benny_ ," I pushed him, without knowing why. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Violet with him, but clearly there was something big I didn't know, and Violet sure as hell wasn't going to tell me.

He groaned a bit to himself, giving in.

"She went to the Open, Beth," he told me, finally meeting my eyes. "She drove to Las Vegas when she ran away. She saw you there--she saw our game."

"She was... at the Open?" I stumbled, trying to remember what I could about that tournament. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" He asked me, his eyes intense and narrowed. "Just--don't hate her for playing in the Championship, I was the one who pushed her to play. She wouldn't have done if I hadn't--well, I guess I kind of made her, which was fucked up of me. So if you're gonna hate anyone, hate me."

I looked deeply in his eyes, wishing I could understand his motivations. Why did he care so much?

"I don't hate Violet," I admitted, my voice soft. My chest felt warm as I studied his features, his facial hair sparkled in the sunlight. "Or you."

"I don't hate you, either," he said quietly, holding my gaze. A lock of his golden hair fell into his eyes, obstructing my view of that intoxicating green. Instinctively, I lightly pushed it out of his eyes with one of my fingers, dragging my finger along his temple.

My heart jolted as I realized what I did. I swallowed anxiously, looking away, realizing I had leaned forward closer to him.

"I-I like your hair," was my pathetic excuse. He furrowed his brows slightly, confused, as anyone would be if their girlfriend's sister had just done something like that. God, I was so fucking awkward and stupid-- _Benny's with Violet,_ I hissed to myself. _His hair isn't mine to touch._

I moved away, clearing my throat. I had to get out of here and away from him.

"I-I have to go," I sputtered, standing. He still didn't say anything, his face still that confused expression. I hurried away, trying to push Benny's eyes out of my thoughts, his magnetic warmth...

"Beth!" I snapped at myself, wanting to slap his face out of my mind. It was no use; I melted at the thought of him.

*****

The auditorium was so quiet I forgot for minutes on end that anyone was even in there, except for me and Violet. She was oddly... relaxed, not as focused. She hunched over the table, close to the pieces, leaning her cheek on her left hand as she moved her pieces with her right. Usually she sat straight, graceful, composed--now she just seemed like all of that composure had evaporated into this calm, less focused Violet, like she was somewhere else.

Her moves confused and frustrated me. I thought I had planned every outcome, every good move she would have made, and at our point of adjournment she was threatening a 3-move mate. I expected her to take it, of course I did, but she didn't--she spent her energy on her queenside instead, making my heart race. I had no idea what she was doing and I couldn't even begin to understand the move she made next.

She moved her queen over, opening a file for me to deliver a back-rank checkmate. She didn't look at me, though I was searching her face for an explanation for such a blunder. My eyes flitted across the board, looking for the trap, the unrevealed deploy.

Tears brimmed my eyes. I couldn't believe it; Violet had blundered. She had _blundered!_

Swiftly, trying to contain my excitement, I pushed my rook to her back rank in checkmate. The air was so heavy, so intense, so silent--until everyone in the room took a breath and broke into applause.

Remembering everyone was there, I gasped excitedly, smiling huge. On the blackboard behind our table, someone circled: _E. Harmon._

I stood up, a warm feeling rushing through me. I wanted to cry, I was so fucking happy--it was better than any high I had ever had, it was the best feeling I had ever felt in my life.

Violet quickly shook my hand, walking through the crowd to Benny as I was surrounded. Strangers smiling widely shook my hand, congratulating me in a frenzy of praise. I couldn't believe that I won--I was so caught in a spiral of disbelief and dreamy shock that I barely registered my surroundings, or even the people whose hands I was shaking.

I stumbled away, practically dancing with joy, catching my breath once outside of the auditorium. I leaned against the wall next to the door, grinning to myself, barely breathing. The blur of joy softened as I thought back to Violet's quick exit from the game. She must have been so distraught about a blunder like that--I knew I would be. One mistake, and it was all over.

The door opened, two chatting men walking out. I recognized them as Matt and Mike, their identical voices almost blending together.

"That was the worst blunder I've ever seen," chuckled Mike, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket. "Beth got so fucking lucky."

Matt shrugged, their backs to me as they turned down the hallway. "Lucky, or did Violet just hand it to her?"

I couldn't hear Mike's reply, nor did I want to. My heart sunk as I thought about the words, about the possibility of Violet throwing the game. She wouldn't do that--right?

I thought back to her careless play, her crucial blunders, her unfocused eyes. Couldn't that have been about something else? Maybe the fight she had with Benny?

My breath hitched, my chest hurting. I hurried out of the building to my hotel room, practically running there to get to my board and play it out. Every moment that went by was agonizing--I wouldn't know for sure until I played it out. Even though Violet's game was always flawless, everyone had bad days, right? Everyone blundered occasionally, everyone got distracted sometimes...

I quickly set my board to the winning position, the crucial blunder. I played the game backwards from the last move, trying to understand how her positions failed. I was breathing hard, practically hyperventilating and muttering hurriedly to myself. From our point of adjournment, I played through the game slowly, analyzing her moves. But there was nothing to analyze, nothing to study--her moves made her positions worse, all of them leading to that crucial blunder that allowed me to put her in checkmate. Since we had adjourned, all her moves only unravelled her advantage, the impenetrable defense she spent the whole game building--

The truth smacked me in the face. Violet didn't blunder, and she made zero mistakes. She threw the game.

I stared hatefully at the pieces and breathed, "You _bitch_."


	22. Violet

**5 hours earlier**

Beth's eyes were digging into mine intensely, her jaw tight. Her fists were clenched on the table--I half-expected her to slam down her fists and send the chess pieces into flight. She just glared at me, her image striking clear. Darkness surrounded my view of her, a hazy black fog creeping into view. The board depicted my winning position, the outcome of the 3-move checkmate I threatened to play when Beth had requested to adjourn.

Suddenly Beth's eyes turned from hateful to terrified, like she had seen something horrible happen to me in front of her. Her face contorted with horror, her mascara running down her cheeks as she started to sob, trembling and panicked. The black fog creeped onto the table, blurring my view of the pieces.

"Violet!" She screamed, her voice piercing my ears. "VIOLET!" I wanted to reach out to her, tell her I was okay--but I was paralyzed in place, unable to reassure her. The fog surrounded us and began to inch onto her skin, like a wall between the two of us.

"You have to wake up, Violet!" She insisted, her face disappearing. "Don't go, Violet! Don't leave me!" My heart burned with sadness, with my incapacitating paralysis. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was that I couldn't move, I couldn't reach her, I couldn't help her when she needed me.

"Violet! WAKE UP!"

_I'm so sorry, Beth._

I woke with a very sharp intake of breath, flinging open my eyes and frightfully taking in my surroundings. I was still in the hotel room, Benny's warm arm still wrapped around me. I fought to catch my breath and held back my urge to hyperventilate.

Pale morning light seeped into our room, the bright glow illuminating the white curtains. I glanced at the clock--it was 10am. My rapid heartbeat stilled as I filled my lungs with air, unable to banish Beth's horrified face from my vision. I saw the outline of her screaming body when I blinked.

Benny stirred behind me, moaning slightly. I kissed his limp, warm hand softly, sighing deeply. I was so sick of those fucking nightmares.

"I love you," I whispered to him. I wondered if he had any idea how precious he was to me, how much I treasured him.

"Vi," he moaned a little, barely awake. "You okay?"

"Mhmm." I really wasn't.

"You lie," he slurred drowsily, adjusting his position. I smiled softly at him; it was always a wonder to realize how well he knew me.

"It was just a dream," I told him, rubbing his arm affectionately. "Go back to sleep."

"Mm, no, I'm up." I rolled my eyes at him, though secretly I was grateful. He flopped onto his back, freeing me from his cuddle and letting me rest on his chest.

"Sorry," I apologized, guilty that I woke him. He tapped his index finger against my nose as a playful warning.

"No sorries," he told me, stroking my hair. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It was some... freak version of the accident nightmare. Beth and I finished our game and then she started to scream." My voice cracked, my eyes filling with hot tears. I wiped them before they could fall. "I'm pathetic."

"You are not," he affirmed, rubbing my shoulders. "You have post-traumatic stress."

"But I keep letting her get to me," I sighed, tears squeezing themselves out and leaving little puddles on his warm chest.

"You love her," he said quietly, almost like he was confident of his answer but wasn't sure if I could hear it.

"That's the problem," I sighed, and he shook his head.

"That's the solution," he objected factually, making me roll my eyes.

"You're such a know-it-all," I mumbled, making him chuckle.

"You love it."

"I don't," I smiled, resting my head on my propped elbow to look at him. "You know... our mom was an addict, too."

He was quiet for a minute; he brushed some hair out of my face and cupped my cheek.

"Really?"

"Yeah... I don't want what happened to her happen to Beth," I confessed, my pity for my sister washing through me. It was undeniable at that point; it seemed to have gotten worse overnight.

"Do you think it will?"

"I think maybe... she spirals when she loses," I thought aloud, thinking of her running out of the U.S. Open after losing to Benny. It all made sense, of course; her addiction to winning accompanied her dependency on alcohol. I wondered if she was still on the tranquilizers we used to take at the orphanage; knowing her, she must have gotten her hands on them as soon as she could once she was adopted.

"Makes sense to me," he shrugged, touching my cheek softly. "But you shouldn't make yourself feel guilty for winning, baby. You're not responsible for her addiction."

"But... but maybe I am," I lamented, sitting up and looking away. "Maybe it _is_ my fault. If I hadn't been--how I am, maybe she wouldn't have to win all the time. And maybe she wouldn't have to drink to dull the pain, either."

"Violet, for fuck's sake," he sighed sadly, "why do you have to make yourself miserable?"

"I've always been miserable," I replied blankly, though his tone hurt. "I don't want that for Beth."

"I think you're too late." He sat up next to me, his fingers warm under the shirt I was wearing. What a sad thing it was to be too late.

"Violet, there's... something I want to tell you," he said uneasily, running a hand through his hair. I furrowed my brows, my heart hurting. At least he wasn't keeping anything from me.

"I invited Beth to the student union last night," he admitted. I studied his face without understanding.

"Um... what? You two talked?"

"Y-yeah."

" _What?_ " I snapped, harsher than I intended. "What did you talk about?"

"Well, I invited her, and she said no, so I really thought she wasn't going to come. And I... I told her that she should talk to you."

I looked away, gripping my fists. I swung my legs over the bed onto the floor, unable to be close to him anymore.

"Vi?"

"Why would you do that?" I snapped, whipping my head around to glare at him. "Why would you meddle?"

"Because I know she cares about you," he insisted, leaning closer to me. His eyes were soft, but I could tell he wasn't sorry he did it. "And you _have_ to talk to each other. I thought maybe you'd want to."

"Right, because that went so well," I sarcastically retorted, infuriated.

"I just wanted you and Beth to--"

"STOP INTERFERING!" I shouted, startling myself. Shocked, he glowered at me, clenching his jaw. I held my angry gaze, unwilling to regret yelling at him.

He moved away from me and quickly put on his clothes. I said nothing, looking down at my fists. I heard him shuffling around the room before door slammed.

I sighed into my hands, immeasurably frustrated. He had no right to interfere with my issues with Beth, no matter his intentions. And I knew that he probably wasn't going to stop either, because his mind was made up. He was so infuriatingly stubborn when he made up his mind; but I wished he hadn't left. It reminded me of that awful night I spent alone with only bourbon and cigarettes for company.

My eyes caught on Benny's chess board on the desk. It was Beth and I's position of adjournment from when I had been studying earlier--studying to take away the U.S. Champion title away from her.

Guilt festered within me. I thought of my sweet sister, the sister that comforted me after my nightmares and played with me in the rain. That sister loved me; maybe Benny was right, and she still did. Somehow, maybe it was possible that after everything she did to me, she could still love me. Perhaps that love for me was her punishment.

The thought made me nauseous. It couldn't be possible, anyway--I didn't care what Benny said. Before, I had thought that I was nothing to her, which turned out not to be true: I was less than nothing. I was her opponent, her enemy.

I sighed at the idea, feeling downright exhausted of thinking about this. I didn't want to fight her anymore; maybe it was time that I gave up.

*****

I kept myself still, trying not to reveal to her what I was doing. I planned all of my moves out in advance, knowing exactly how I needed to unravel my advantage. I pretended to ignore the 3-move mate, hoping everyone would buy it. I was human, after all; was it so crazy for me to make mistakes?

Beth was breathing fast. She must have known she was winning at that point, yet she seemed to be in a state of disbelieving confusion. She stared so intensely at my back rank, her jaw clenched. I kept my expression still as I delivered the move that would allow her to win--I pushed my queen to the side, practically welcoming her rook into my back rank.

She made the move quickly, holding back a smile, practically glowing. The audience exploded with applause, which managed to distract Beth enough for me to quickly shake her hand and get away. I locked eyes with Benny, who was looking at me with sad, frustrated eyes. I hadn't seen him since our fight this morning, so I didn't tell him what I was going to do. Though, honestly, he probably should have expected me not to have the courage to win. I pushed through the audience, finding my way to him. He sighed when I approached him, shaking his head.

"You threw it," he accused, brows furrowed. He looked so disappointed and mad; maybe not so much at me, but at my choice. "Why would you do that?"

I gave him a sad look, before turning to look at Beth. She was laughing, smiling so wide, the most joyous and full of life I had ever seen her.

"Look how happy she is," I said softly, taking Benny's hand in mine. I looked back at him observing Beth across the room before he ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

"You astound and infuriate me," he said, turning back to me. He tucked a clump of my hair behind my ear as I smiled at him sadly.

"You astound and infuriate me, too," I told him, wrapping my arms around his torso. "I'm okay with it, Benny. I don't need to win, and honestly, I didn't want to. I couldn't."

"You're too kind for your own good," he sighed, stroking my long hair.

"I'm okay with that, too," I said, and I really was. "Let's just go home, okay?"

He kissed my forehead, taking my hand again and leading me out of the auditorium. We walked across the quad to our hotel, and I let out my first free breath. The late afternoon air was warm and satisfying, and I thought of what would happen when Benny and I got back to New York. We could be together without Beth or a Championship looming over us; we could just fall deeper in love, or at least I hoped we would. It didn't matter much to me that we had just fought that morning, or that Benny's opinion of Beth differed from mine. I took comfort in the fact that all of this dumb Beth drama was over, and I could put my energy towards somebody who actually loved me.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," I told him, as we finished our room service dinner. "I don't think I should have."

"It's okay, I needed to be yelled at," he shrugged, twirling a wooden pawn from the chess board in his hand. He then smirked, giving me a sly smile. "It was kinda hot, actually."

I laughed, leaning over the table to kiss him. Just as I started to, though, a thunderous knock on our door startled me. Benny and I exchanged a worried look before he got up. As he walked towards the door, Beth's muffled voice yelled furiously, " _Violet!_ "

"Fuck," I muttered, just as Benny opened the door. Beth stormed in immediately, her face red with fury, her fists balled. I could smell the rum coming off of her three feet away.

"You bitch," she snapped at me, "play me. _Now._ "

"Beth, stop," Benny told her firmly, stepping between us and blocking my view of her. "You're drunk--"

"Thank you, Benny, I know," she spat, slurring her words. She spotted the chess board by the window and stormed over to it, frantically setting the pieces back to the position of our adjournment. She whipped around, angry tears in her eyes, glaring at me.

"You have to play fair. Play me!" She demanded, practically shaking. Everything happened so fast since she stormed in, I could barely even get ahold of myself. I glanced at the chessboard, then back at her.

"Violet," Benny warned me from across the room.

"It's okay," I told him, keeping my eyes on Beth. I walked to the table and sat down, steadying my breath. She gripped her fists on the table like she did in my dream.

With a shaky hand, she moved her pawn forward, the move she enclosed when we adjourned. I watched her closely, meeting her eyes as I made the first move towards checkmate. The game was over very quickly.

Beth's eyes filled with tears, rage pouring through her as she realized the truth. She glared at me, looking up from the chess board and its tantalizing wooden pieces. Her gaze could've burned a hole through me.

"Beth," I started, wishing I had never entered the stupid tournament in the first place. _This_ , this moment was exactly the one I wanted to avoid; the moment when I crushed her spirit.

"I hate you," she spat, tears dropping from her eyes. I felt something inside of me freeze, the weight of her words sinking into me. Her eyes were so sharp and menacing, and I could tell she was telling me the truth. I wanted to tell myself she didn't mean it, but I'd never seen that look in someone's eyes before. She looked at me like I had ruined her.

The world became hazy, like the black fog from my nightmare had creeped in and made everything blurry. I heard Beth's chair squeak and then the door slam loudly. Choked up, I whimpered, sinking my head into my hands. I heard Benny say my name, but the world around me melted into blackness. I felt him rub my back gently as I sobbed into my hands.

"I'm so sorry, Vi," he said quietly, which I barely heard through my own cries. I sat there for a long time, crying out all my tears, exhausted.

"She hates me," I muttered, finally opening my eyes to a blurry vision. "She fucked _me_ over, but she hates me."

"Don't you think you fucked her over too?" He asked me quietly but sincerely. "By letting her win?"

"I didn't have a choice," I whispered, my gut aching. "I couldn't bear to break her heart."

"Except now you've done worse, Violet," he sighed, his words a bit cruel but truthful. "Beth's like me. I would know."

I didn't respond. I didn't know what to say; I had no words.

"What if... you could make it up to her?" He asked gently, confusing me. "We could invite her to New York, to train for the Paris Invitational. I don't know, maybe it would be good for you two. You could work out all your issues."

"She would never come," I said blankly. He took my hands and squeezed them.

"Maybe she would. You're her only family," he reasoned, affectionately kissing my fingers. I thought of Beth's statement to the newspaper: _I don't have any other family._

"I just want her to love me again," I admitted, "like she used to." It was my most hidden of secrets; I barely even recognized it myself, but it was there.

"I know, baby," he empathized, embracing me. "Maybe she can."

"Should we go find her?" I asked him, meeting his soft eyes. He nodded slightly, and I sighed into him, pressing our foreheads together.

"I love you, Benny," I whispered, cupping his face with my hands. It was so sweet to me how much he wanted me and Beth to get along--of course, until that point, it was massively annoying, but I felt like I was starting to understand it. At the end of the day, he loved me so much that he wanted to help me achieve the only real thing that I wanted: for Beth to love me again.

"And I love you, Violet from nowhere in particular." This made me smile, cracking the stiff tear stains on my cheeks.

It didn't take long to find Beth. After we looked in the student union, we found her hunched over a vodka tonic in a nearby bar. I froze at the sight of her, unsure of whether or not I could handle her telling me she hated me again. Though, at that point, I could pretty much handle anything.

"Beth?" Benny said, getting her attention. Her tired, puffy eyes looked up, her lips pursed at the sight of me. She turned back to her drink without a word.

"Beth, we just want to talk," he insisted.

"I don't feel like talking," she replied blankly, swirling the little red straw in her drink.

"Look, I know you hate me," I told her, trying to pull myself together enough to get out my words. "But if you want to beat Borgov in Paris, I think you need me. We want you to come to New York with us. To train."

She finally met my eyes, clearly not expecting that. She looked to Benny, who nodded.

"It could really help you," Benny confirmed, his voice surprisingly sympathetic. Beth looked back to her drink. "Come on, Beth. You know she's the best there is. Let her help you."

"I don't need help!" She snapped, gripping her drink. "Especially not from _you_." She said this to me, with bite in her words.

"Benny, let's just go," I sighed, increasingly saddened by Beth's words.

"Violet--" he protested.

"She's not gonna come to New York, Benny. Look at her face!" I gestured to her angry, tearful frown. "She can't fucking stand me. You know what, Beth?" I turned to her, and she continued to glare at me. "I give up, ok? I quit. You can have all of this, this chess world, I don't want to fight you for it. I can see that the only thing you want from me is to leave you alone, so I will. You don't ever have to worry about seeing me at a tournament again."

"What?" Benny frustratingly interrupted.

"Because I'd rather be nothing to you at all than be your enemy," I finished, my voice shaking. Beth's face softened, tears pricking in her eyes.

"Violet, you can't just quit chess," Benny objected fiercely, turning to me with furrowed brows. "You have to compete--you just have to."

"Why?" I exasperated, practically raising my arms in surrender. "She doesn't want me to."

"Fuck what she wants!" He fumed. "What about your success? Your dreams?"

"You mean _your_ dreams?" I asked him softly, hoping I could help him understand. "I told you Benny, I don't need to win. I don't need a title, I don't need to be a champion, I don't need to be the best. I'm not like her, or... you."

"But you _are_ the best," he insisted, sighing. "The world deserves to know who you are."

"He's right," Beth said suddenly, much calmer than she was before. "I hate it, but he's right. As much as I want you to quit.. you shouldn't. You _are_ the best, and I need you to beat Borgov."

I stared at her in surprise. Beth was usually too proud to tell me something like that.

"I'll come to New York," she decided, shocking both Benny and me. He and I exchanged a look, and I gave him a tiny nod.

"Well, pack your things," he said to her, "because we leave tonight."


	23. Beth/Violet

I looked out into the darkness of the apartment, into the quiet, empty air hovered above Benny's living room floor. I sighed, unable yet again to fall asleep without alcohol. It had been a week since I'd moved to Benny and Violet's apartment, so I was one week sober. It was not an easy week; though I was glad to finally arrive here and get out of being stuck in a car with Violet. I didn't speak to her much on the drive, so she didn't speak to me either at that point. I wanted my space, sure, but at the same time I wished at least one of us would have the courage to talk to the other.

Training was awkward, but sometimes helpful, when neither of us were making comments about the other. What was even more frustrating than her superior abilities was the fact that she was so much less trained than I was, less knowledgable of tactics and history, less well read in chess theory. And she still always won, so I couldn't help but sulk bitterly whenever I was around her. I hated being second best; and Violet just loved to stoke the rage within me by quipping about how she was better than me and how I hated to lose. It was the opposite of healthy, but I could stomach her presence when she wasn't all over Benny or reacting to my bitchy behavior.

Benny wasn't such a great buffer, either. I knew he was on her side of things, and I wasn't willing to dive into the details of my experiences with him. The idea of living with him, being _alone_ with him, made me nervous and short-breathed. I didn't know what I would say to him and I didn't know what he would say to me. I found myself doubting my decision to come to New York, but I also couldn't make myself leave. I didn't want to be away from Benny, and I knew it was finally time to confront my sister. Trouble was, I had no idea how.

And it didn't help to see them... together. Whenever they leaned in for a kiss I turned away, wishing I could inconspicuously plug my ears. And as I looked out into the dark on that sleepless night, I just barely heard Violet's muffled laughter in their bedroom, Benny's chuckles as he shushed her, their bed frame shifting rhythmically. I groaned, covering my ears--the last thing I wanted to hear was Benny and Violet having sex.

I awoke as the sun rose, cold blue light brightening the dark room. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, yawning as I pulled a sweatshirt on over my nightdress. I fixed myself a cup of coffee, sitting cross legged on the floor as I set up my chess set on the coffee table.

I sighed, trying to forget the sounds that came from their bedroom the night before. I dared to imagine what Benny must have looked like in there, panting and hot. The way he might smile down at me as his necklaces swung over my torso...

I jumped as their bedroom door opened, a shirtless Benny shifting out of the doorway and closing the door quietly. My cheeks warmed immediately as he turned towards me, his green eyes widening in surprise.

"What are you doing up?" He asked me, and I looked away blushing, trying to take a deep breath.

"Early riser," I explained briefly, hiding my face with my coffee mug. He furrowed his brows but accepted my answer, unfolding a sweatshirt in his hands to pull it over his head. I let my eyes linger a little too long on his exposed skin before it disappeared under the sweatshirt.

"What are you working on?" He asked me from the kitchen, pouring instant coffee into a mug. I cleared my throat, turning back to the board.

"I thought I'd replay the Championship game," I said airily, feeling a knot in my chest at the thought of the game. "And try to figure out where I fucked up so bad."

He let out a light chuckle.

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," he told me, sitting on the loveseat and pushing up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. "The only people you've lost to are Violet and Borgov. That's a hell of an accomplishment."

"It's not good enough," I muttered bitterly, shrugging.

"Why not?"

I met his eyes, my heart quickening. I had forgotten how easy it was to talk to him, to tell him everything I was thinking.

"If I can beat Borgov," I started breathlessly, "then I'm a world champion, a grandmaster. But if I can beat Violet, then I'm... a genius. A true master." I blushed, embarrassed of how intimate that feeling was. I probably should not have told him.

But he just nodded, eyeing me with empathy and warmth.

"I know what you mean," he replied earnestly, looking away, his eyes glazed over like he was literally seeing it. He looked back at me, breaking his daydream.

I sighed, playing with my fingers in my lap.

"I just wish... that _I_ was the genius... not her," I admitted, feeling small. "Selfish, right?"

He shrugged a little, and his face remained nonjudgemental as he said, "Yes." But those green eyes turned empathetic and warm again and he continued, "And I get it."

"Do you love her?" I asked him, meeting his eyes again. Suddenly I jumped and stood at the slicing sound of Violet's scream, terror smacking me like a blow.

 _"I'm sorry!"_ She wailed from the bedroom, starting to sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry--"

Benny jumped up immediately, his empathetic expression vanished and replaced with panic. He hurried to the door and threw it open, calling Violet's name.

"Benny," she whimpered, "Benny."

"I'm here," I heard him say, before I realized I had been holding my breath. I let out a shaky exhale, tears blurring my vision. I tried not to hyperventilate as my heart burned with anxiety, feeling it beat under my fingers. I collapsed into the chair behind me, hit with a wave of intense lightheadedness. I had forgotten about Violet's nightmares; about how awful it was to hear her scream. At the orphanage, around the anniversary of the accident, Violet's nightmares got so bad that she had to be moved to a private bedroom so that she wouldn't wake up everyone every night. It was humiliating for her; and even after countless times of hearing her scream, I could never get used to it.

I heard her crying in the bedroom, Benny's soft whispers to her that everything was okay. I found the strength to stand, peeking over the doorway into the bedroom. Violet was in a fetal position on their bed, her head in Benny's lap, tightly gripping the covers. She cried quietly, hugging her chest.

Benny's eyes met mine as he stroked her long hair away from her face, his slight shake of his head to tell me not to come in. I thought of how I didn't need him to answer my question; only love could explain how panicked his once pretty eyes were when he heard her in pain. I cowered away, sinking back into my lonely shadows.

*****

"So after the rook trade," I continued to explain, mapping out the sequence on the board, "the other rook checks, king moves, and bishop to g8. Do you see it?" I looked up at Beth, her eyes focused on the board, her fingers thoughtfully on her lips.

"Yes, I see it," she lashed at me, making me roll my eyes. I was getting seriously fed up with her attitude.

"Well, you're welcome," I snapped back, letting out an angry breath. She scoffed but didn't reply, moving the pieces through the sequence again. "You know, if you weren't such a bitch all the time, maybe we could have a conversation."

She looked away, getting up and putting on her shoes.

"I'm going for smokes." Her voice was so empty. I huffed in my chair, crossing my arms.

Living with Beth was like being constantly disappointed. She was crabby to me almost all the time, though in general, less harsh than I expected. Still, she got even more pissed off whenever I acknowledged what happened at the Championship, so I was tired of reaching out to her and getting nothing. The only times when it wasn't massively disappointing was when I saw her make progress in her play.

"Violet?" Benny called me from the bedroom doorway. "Phone for you."

I furrowed my brows, standing up and approaching our room.

"Who would call me for me?" I questioned, taking the phone from his hand. He lifted my chin gently to give me a smile, warming my stomach and making me blush. I pressed the phone against my ear.

"This is Violet," I said into the receiver.

"Violet Harmon--it's an honor to talk to you," an unfamiliar male voice said happily, almost flustered. "My name is Townes, I write for the Lexington Herald Leader. Benny and I know each other."

"Townes," I muttered to myself, and the name clicked. "Oh--you're the one who told Benny that I'm related to Beth."

I heard him clear his throat, awkwardly laughing.

"Yeah, um--sorry about that, I-I didn't know. Benny had told me about this girl he knew named Violet who beat him at chess, and I made the connection since I write for the paper. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I chuckled at his sweet, innocent apology. "No hard feelings. So why did you want to talk to me?"

"Well, I was hoping I could interview you for the paper."

"The-the paper? Why?"

He chuckled airily. "Runaway orphan missing and presumed dead for almost a year resurfaces in another state as the second best chess player in the country right behind her twin sister. It's a hell of a story, Violet. And truthfully, we all at the paper wanted to know that you're okay--I mean, it was us who printed your photo every week in case someone found you. And the orphanage too, we all just want to know what happened."

I paused, taking in his words. All of these strangers actually cared about me, actually wanted to know that I was okay and not in an unmarked grave.

"Okay," I agreed, breathless. "What do you want to know?"

Townes eagerly asked me his questions, wanting to know what happened the night I ran away and where I went. To keep Mr. Shaibel out of trouble, I said that I had a friend who lended me a car so I could drive to the U.S. Open to find Beth.

"And when you eventually approached her, at the U.S. Open, what did you say to her?"

I bit my lip, looking down at my feet.

"I didn't approach her. I changed my mind."

"Oh," he breathed, surprised. "Why?"

I thought of my memories of the U.S. Open, of the image of Beth across the hotel room, bouncing her foot and deep in thought. I wasn't sure how personal I wanted this interview to be.

"I was... a coward, I think," I said softly. "I was scared that she didn't want to know me, and that even if she did, no explanation she could give me for leaving me alone would ever satisfy me. So I... decided not to even try. And I moved to New York with Benny, for a fresh start."

"And at the Championship, when you and Beth played, your blunders led to her taking the title. And after you climbed your way to the final two, it's hard to believe that happened by accident. So what I really want to know is... did you throw the game?"

I paused, thinking again. Would Beth ever read this interview? Would she ever even want to understand my side of things? To me, it was doubtful.

"Yes," I admitted, taking a deep breath. "And the reason is... I wanted Beth to win. I will always want Beth to win."

Townes thanked me for my time, and after he gratefully told me goodbye, I hung up the phone with a sigh. I wasn't sure how much of what I said he would print, but at that moment, I felt like I owed everyone at the paper the truth. Even if Beth never cared to read it.

I heard the door of the apartment close, signaling that she was back. I heard the smack of paper on the counter, making me furrow my brows and step out of the bedroom with curiosity.

Beth was standing by the kitchen counter, her fists shoved in the pockets of her jacket. On the counter was a magazine, folded and turned about halfway through. Beth was glaring at me, her cheeks pink.

"What is that?" Benny questioned her, walking over to us from the couch. He picked up the magazine to get a better look at the photo.

"It's me," Beth fumed, "and Violet. At the championship."

" _America's queens of chess,_ " Benny read, " _twin sisters Elizabeth and Violet Harmon, seem cold and frigid to each other on the outside, but sisterly love is just beneath the surface. Theories that Violet Harmon threw the Championship game have excited chess fans everywhere, and our experts have confirmed it: Violet let Beth win._ "

"Now everyone knows," Beth spat, continuing to glare at me, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Thank you SO MUCH!"

"Beth, this is not what I wanted," I insisted, annoyed by her lack of understanding.

"Why did you even do it, anyway? It's not like it was some great act of sisterly love--we both know you're not capable of that," she spat. Her words infuriated me--I huffed angrily, wanting to punch her in the face.

" _I'm_ not capable of sisterly love?!" I raised my voice, furious tears pooling in my eyes.

"Stop--stop fighting!" Benny shouted, exasperated. "Just stop. I can't fucking take it anymore." He turned away, throwing the magazine on the floor. I rolled my eyes at his tantrum, before empathizing with him. It probably was really annoying to listen to us fight all the time.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I sighed, wanting to crumble. She didn't say anything; she just looked away, her arms crossed. "I let you win because I gave up. I don't want to fight anymore. I just want to help you. Why can't you just let me in?"

She finally met my eyes, hers wide and almost frightful. Her expression was a glimmer of the Beth I used to know.

"I don't hate you," she said quietly, tearful. "I just hate to lose."

She paused, sighing and looking at her hands.

"I'm sorry about what I said," she muttered. "I don't want you to have stayed missing."

"You're so selfish," I told her softly, tears dropping from my eyes. She looked down.

"I know," Beth whispered.


	24. Benny

I held my breath, praying to myself that Beth would pull through. She was biting her tongue, staring intently at the pieces in front of her. I could practically see the gears turning in her head, working out the best moves, deciding between them. Even after three months of living with us, Beth was still unable to beat Violet. She was, however, a better player each time she lost. Beth was slowly climbing the stairs of genius--she could practically see the top. In truth, I was envious of her. I wished I could learn so much from Violet, to even approach her level of brilliance. Brilliance looked good on Beth.

I resisted thinking about what moves I would play--it's not like I could win against Violet on an average day, anyway. I'd lost too many times against her to have such faith in my judgement. And I wondered if Violet actually knew how good she really was, given her natural play. Chess came so easily to her, it was practically second nature. The board was like an extension of her, a reflection of her mental landscape. To me, nothing was more extraordinary.

Violet was patiently waiting for Beth's move, probably already prepared for whatever Beth was going to do. My lovely girlfriend leaned back in her chair, her black top hugging the curves of her torso. Her eyes were alive, attentive, her aura capable and dominating. I loved to watch her play chess; she was so hot.

Beth decided her move, biting the inside of her cheek. She made it quickly, looking up at Violet for her reaction. Violet's eyebrows twitched--she leaned back over the board, searching the pieces for the right move. She nodded to herself, muttering silently, leaning her elbows on the coffee table. She made her move swiftly, and Beth was ready for her. The exchanges that followed were like rapid fire, both women confidant and powerfully skilled. I thought of how on the surface, it was just a game a chess, but really, genius unfolded and flourished in front of me.

It happened so fast, even I barely followed the game. But Violet's patient, calm face morphed into a pretty smile, one of genuine joy. She looked across the table at her stunned sister, who gazed at the position on the board, her eyes glazed over. Beth bit her lip to hold back a huge grin.

"Well, that took a while," Beth burst, beaming as she took a free breath. "This is what, game nine hundred?"

"Something like that," Violet said breathlessly. Violet smiled at her sister, and I couldn't help but join in their joy. It had taken Beth months to get here, to finally beat her.

Violet glanced over at me in acknowledgement, a tiny nod with that pretty smile that told me, _"We're doing it. We're helping Beth."_

Something washed through me, though I couldn't tell what. I felt warmer as I studied Beth's joyful eyes, her relaxed, casual position on the floor. She was practically glowing--she had this glint in her eyes...

It was odd to live with her. Odd because her mood swings were totally unpredictable, though I somewhat expected that because I knew she was getting sober. Violet and I hid all our alcohol under our bed and made a pact not to drink, in solidarity with Beth. That was Violet's idea, and while it didn't thrill me, I continued to admire Violet's kind heart. She was looking out for her sister in so many ways, and whenever Beth was ungrateful for it, it frustrated me almost as much as it frustrated Violet. But every time I wanted to intervene, Violet's furious words echoed in my head: _Stop interfering!_

Fuck, I made her so mad. I never wanted to make her angry again, ever, ever again. I prayed I never would.

I prayed even more after I dreamt about Beth on the night she won. The dream was foggy and hazy--but I heard Beth's soft voice, felt her hands on my skin. Her warm eyes came into view, the beauty mark on her neck, her bare chest....

I woke very suddenly, my sweatpants tight and panting. Guilt dropped on me like a heavy boulder, with confusion and fear. I was furious with myself, pushing away the images and telling myself it didn't mean anything. Because of course it didn't; I was in love with Violet. Every day, I realized all over again how in love with her I was, how hard I fell for her. And if Violet ever knew what I had dreamt, she would be shocked and probably horrified, thinking I'd betrayed her and fallen for her sister.

And I hated keeping things from her. It was like a constant itch I couldn't scratch; I became a bit moody too, so I was especially grumpy when Violet told me she wasn't going to play at the Paris Invitational, where she was eagerly expected.

"I don't want to get in Beth's way," she told me, shrugging, sighing heavily. "Benny, please. How many times are we going to argue about this?"

"Even Beth thinks you shouldn't quit," I fired back, frustrated with her stubbornness. "You don't have to do this."

"Why do you care so much? It doesn't matter!" She snapped at me. "None of this matters. The only thing I care about is repairing my relationship with my sister."

"And I love you for it," I told her, trying a gentler approach. "But you can do that and also compete."

"How? Only one of us can win. I'm not willing to throw games for the rest of my chess career so Beth doesn't have to suffer, and I'm not willing to fight her for titles."

"You're not a quitter, Violet," I said soberly.

"Maybe I am," she shrugged, her eyes hard. "Maybe I'm a cowardly, lowly quitter." She breathed heavily and glared at me, turning away from me and leaving the kitchen. I pressed my palms to my temples, wishing I had handled that better. I was fucking terrible with words--I always had been, especially with Violet. I knew she was right, that competing would only lead to more conflict with Beth, but suddenly I didn't care if they fought. I wanted her to compete so much because Violet deserved to be loved by the world. She deserved to be adored and treasured, and acknowledged for her brilliant nature, her perfect kindness, her warm heart and her utter genius. I wanted the world to love her like I loved her; and like Beth refused to, breaking Violet's heart. So I didn't want to let it go, to even for a second acknowledge that her genius wasn't worth the admiration of millions.

But I swallowed my pride and apologized to her anyway. Because she was worth that, too.

Which made the second dream all the more painful to reflect on. It was similar to the first one, except the second illuminated Beth's--well, lower half.

I hated myself. One dream was one thing, two was another. I had no idea what they meant--I didn't even think I was attracted to Beth at all. Sure, I noticed Beth's beauty occasionally, but not enough to be alarming. Though I feared that I was beginning to see her in a different light, with a warmer touch. After she moved in, we would talk sometimes, when Violet wasn't around. Notably, a week after she moved in, I woke up early to find Beth studying. She told me that she wished she had been the genius, not Violet, and I couldn't help but empathize with her. If I had had a twin brother who surpassed my chess ability like Violet surpassed Beth's, I would be constantly furious. I had even found myself selfishly wishing Violet wasn't as good as she was, so I could be the best again. I hated that part of myself; the part that lusted for Beth, the part addicted to winning, the part obsessed with genius.

I prayed the dreams would stop. I prayed I would never make Violet angry again, or make her cry. She was everything good about my life, and I fervently wished I wouldn't fuck it up. I had cheated before, I had let that dark part of me take over. I knew I was impulsive, I knew I gave in to urges and simple pleasures. I had no idea how to change; all I knew was that I was hopelessly and desperately in love with Violet.

But still, brilliance looked good on Beth.


End file.
